


Mitch and the Spider

by 20SomethingSuperHeroes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkwardness, Crime Fighting, Eavesdropping, Gen, High School, POV Male Character, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective Tony Stark, SHIELD, Spying, Trust Issues, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 10:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11689836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20SomethingSuperHeroes/pseuds/20SomethingSuperHeroes
Summary: Setting: the start of the school year following the end of Captain America: Civil WarFinding Spider-man should seem like the assignment of a lifetime. For SHIELD agent Mitch Sorensen, it's a very serious mission, considering that A) Coulson wants to know how Tony Stark is involved and B) SHIELD somehow needs to keep a rein on Spider-man's activities before he attracts unwanted attention from authorities. But Spider-man plays by his own rules, and is willing to go out in the limelight to help Mitch with a risky cover assignment...Author's Note:I finished writing this story a couple of weeks before Spider-man: Homecoming was released. I had to guess at a lot of the details about Peter Parker's life--his school activities, his actual relationship with Tony Stark, so forth. And plus I didn't know much about his powers or the actual suit.  "Enrique" is actually Ted. After seeing the film twice, I don't think that I need to change what I have written.





	Mitch and the Spider

Agent Mitchell Sorensen entered Coulson’s office.

“You wanted to brief me on the Cuban drug cartel assignment?” he asked, standing up straight.

Coulson was standing also, facing the window. He turned to face Mitch. “Close the door. Have a seat.” Mitch did as instructed. Coulson sat down in the high-backed chair behind his desk. Hedwig the owl was perched on the back of his chair, preening herself. 

“The Cuban drug cartel is the official story. But you will only be working on it part-time,” said Coulson. “Your real assignment is to find Spider-man.”

Mitch was too stunned to speak for a moment. “Sir?”

“I thought you would be enthusiastic about this.”

Mitch thought about the long list of Spider-man videos in his Watch Later playlist on YouTube. “Well--it’s just--with SHIELD getting out of the super-hero thing after the Accords--”

“Mitch, Mitch, you know we have never gotten out of the ‘super-hero thing’,” Coulson said, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “SHIELD was never officially created to cater to superheroes but they do fall under our purview--and if the Accords make it illegal, we’ll do what we have to off the record. You know that.”

“But I thought you decided that you wouldn’t be looking into the Spider-man case.”

“We have to now. For his own protection. Secretary Ross is putting feelers out to find out more about who Stark got to help him in Leipzig. Romanoff is off the radar. He can’t prosecute T’challa. Rhodes and Vision are in the clear. Spidey is the only one he can go after. And Stark--” Coulson shook his head, “Stark might not be aware that it’s happening.”

“Yes, there is an agent of the Free Range Party in contact with a Cuban drug cartel based in New York. And yes, that same cartel is trying to get access to restricted weapons. But you will be working to find them only part of the time. Enough to fill out the paperwork to say that you handled the case personally on my behalf. Our office in New York already has most of the leads you need, so you’ll have something to work on. I need you to find Spider-man. Track him down. Find out what happens whenever he shows up. Find out his secret identity, where he lives, who his friends and associates are--we need to have our bases covered. Ross could exploit him from any angle. And I need you to find out where he goes to school--”

“School?”

Coulson looked at Mitch soberly. “According to Steve Rogers, we could be dealing with a teenager. We know he lives in Queens.”

“A teenager?” The idea was unfathomable to Mitch. “Since when is a teenager capable of doing what he does?”

“It’s been my experience, we have no way of choosing who our heroes are. But we need to find out as much as we can about this kid so that we can know how to help him. But most importantly, we need to find out if he is still in contact with Tony Stark. We don’t know what kind of help Stark is giving him.”

“Well, Boss, you’re such good friends with Stark, why don’t you go ahead and ask him?” Mitch was being partly rhetorical.

Coulson smirked. “Stark...hasn’t really talked to me since what happened in Siberia. I’ve tried to call him on a number of unrelated matters but he won’t answer me.”

“Does he KNOW?”

“I don’t think so. But I think he understands that I ended up taking Cap’s side over his. Besides, Tony would never answer a question like that to my face even if we were on good terms. So,” Coulson sat up straight and folded his hands on the desk, “do you have any questions?” 

Mitch had lots of questions, like how he was expected to find Spider-man when his appearances were routinely unpredictable. But he couldn’t muster the strength to ask them.

“Any questions about any part of the assignment?” Coulson threw his hands open.

“I could never understand Caribbean spanish, sir,” Mitch admitted. 

“Then work on it.”

“Okay,” Mitch answered weakly. 

“You might not even need to use it, but just be prepared,” said Coulson. “If someone starts following you around and they look like they’re from the Feds, go back to following your last lead on the drug cartel case. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You will be following Lone Wolf protocol for this case. I’ll explain to Agent Hertz. Do not contact our other SHIELD units unless it has something to do with the cartel--or a life and death situation.”

“Something to do with it, sure.” 

“Now, for the cartel case, you will use the usual SHIELD documentation,” Coulson continued. “However, for updates on our ‘friend,’ I want you to use Hedwig.”

“What?”

Hedwig stopped preening herself and sat up straight. Obviously this was news to her.

“Yes. We can’t use electronic communications for this. Not even texts. The Accords gave the State Department the right to hack into anything we create. And we can’t risk anything leaking. If you must call me, we’ll use code. Got it?”

“Geez.” Mitch had always wanted to spend some time alone with the owl--but not while he was on such a high-stakes mission. “Boss, you remember what happens when people see Hedwig in broad daylight, right?”

“Hedwig knows how to stay hidden.”

“But in New York City?” He glanced up at Hedwig. From the top of Coulson’s chair she stared down at Mitch with her eyes narrowed. 

“The last thing anyone expects SHIELD to do is use owl post for field correspondence.”

“So should I go home and get my fake wand and Harry Potter glasses?”

Coulson laughed. “You’ll be staying in a hotel room in Queens. That will be your center of operations. You don’t need to be seen out in public with her.” 

“Right. So do I pack my own stationary?”

“Actually, yes. It’ll keep you from being tracked. Anything else?”

Mitch shook his head.

There was a knock on Coulson’s door. Coulson instructed the person to enter. It was one of the agents from the statistics department. Coulson told her to wait outside.

“You’re free to go,” Coulson said to him. 

“Thank you, sir,” said Mitch. He stood up and turned to leave.

“Sorensen.”

He stopped at the doorway. 

Coulson was looking at him with intensity. “Do NOT blow your cover on this op.”

“When have I ever?”

“Just don’t.”

“Then how am I supposed to do that with a snowy owl for a carrier pigeon?”

“Let Hedwig play the carrier pigeon. Worry about yourself. She’ll only be with you some of the time.”

He glanced at the owl one more time. She was crouching down, looking grumpy.

“All right, sir.” Mitch left the door open for the statistician. 

Come to think of it, he didn’t have his Harry Potter costume props in D.C. 

The next day he took a SHIELD jet to New York City. Coulson had loaned him a leather gauntlet for handling Hedwig. She would sit on Mitch’s arm, but she looked like she only tolerated it. She was much more relaxed sitting on the ground, sleeping. Mitch would’ve liked to get some rest, too. It was going to be a difficult assignment. The drug cartel was bad enough, but Spider-man? The police couldn’t even handle him. How was Mitch supposed to track him down?

When they landed at LaGuardia, Mitch took Hedwig aside on the tarmac to instruct her to fly to the hotel room in Queens where they would meet. Then he took his bags and got on the subway to take the long way. He used cash to buy his tickets, and if anyone asked for an ID he would show them the false name of Mike Charles. 

On the subway he was nervous, reviewing his rusty Spanish and trying to figure out how he was going to keep up with a rapid-fire accent. There were a couple of people in his car speaking Spanish in the corner and he found that he could follow the conversation. It was a start. 

If Spider-man was school age, maybe he could start by looking up the schools in Queens. He did a search on his personal phone. Four high schools and one private school. Each with at least over a thousand students. Finding Spider-man’s alter-ego would be the proverbial needle in a haystack.

The thought crossed his mind that he should do a search of Queens high schools with recent Spider-man sightings. Mitch knew he was using up data on his personal phone, but it would be worth it if it gave him a lead. He got results just as the subway was pulling into his stop, so he had to jump and grab his luggage before it pulled away. 

Still underground, he unlocked his phone. There had been an almost-car accident in front of a high school on the southeast side of Queens. A student pulling out of the parking garage had been almost oblivious to an oncoming car. The second car swerved to avoid it. One of Spider-man’s webs came out of nowhere to hold back the approaching vehicle just moments before it hit a third vehicle, holding it like a net and swinging it off the road onto an open patch of grass. The drivers and passengers were shaken, but no injuries were reported. The only hassle was getting the sticky webbing off the netted car--not something a good car wash couldn’t fix. Someone standing across the street from the school had caught the whole thing on camera. The final shot of the short video was Spider-man’s silhouette crouched on top of a nearby light pole. Witnesses said that Spider-Man had performed some very impressive acrobatics to jump over the street and sling the web between the cars. It had been very lucky that no other cars had been close enough to crash. That fact suggested that Spider-man was very new in the game, and not very good at planning.

He’s kind of a show-off, Mitch thought. Might he have been performing for friends?

Mitch got off at the nearest subway stop to his hotel. He walked, dragging his rolling suitcase behind him and trying to not draw attention. It wasn’t terribly sunny out but he put on his sunglasses...only to take them right off. Maybe someone watching him would think he was trying too hard. The hotel was a LaQuinta Inn and Suites in an up-and-coming section of town. There were a good amount of people around dressed as nicely as Mitch was, if not better. He checked into his hotel under the Mike Charles name. The hotel receptionist asked him what he was doing in town, and Mitch simply stated that he was there “on business.” 

He got up to his room. Everything was clean and tidy. He put his suitcase on the luggage rack and started to unpack. 

He had to smile to himself as he remembered a hotel visit he’d made in Arizona a few years ago that hadn’t ended very well. The difference was, this time he WAS looking for the superhuman hiding in the neighborhood. But would Spider-man let himself be found? 

Hedwig hadn’t arrived yet. Mitch opened up the window blinds. There was a good view of the street below and the surrounding buildings. His room was almost close to the corner of the hotel. On the corner of the block across the street there were a few small stores: a convenience store, a bookstore, a bakery, and a sketchy-looking pawn shop called Javier’s. If Spider-man should happen to swing by (he chuckled at the pun) he would have a front-row seat. He just hoped Hedwig hadn’t run into any trouble.

Mitch returned to unpacking his suitcase. He hadn’t gotten very far when he heard a tapping on the window. 

“Oh, good.” He went to the window. Hedwig was already sitting on the sill. She hooted at him while he checked to see if there was a way to open the window. Turned out, the window was sealed shut into the pane. And it was two layers of thick glass spaced apart by like two inches. Well, crap. 

Luckily, Mitch was prepared for such an emergency. Inside of his briefcase, along with a few other fancy gadgets he had stowed a glass-cutting laser. He also grabbed a small sensor to check and see if the window was alarmed. The sensor was not triggered by anything in or around the window. 

He activated the laser. Hedwig must have seen that kind of device before, considering how she backed away from the window as much as possible. Mitch cut out a rectangle of glass twelve inches high by six wide through the glass on his side. The laser cut through with a hum and a hiss that he was terrified someone in the next room or downstairs would hear. Then praying the glass wouldn’t get knocked out the other way, he cut the second layer. It fell inward. Sigh of relief. He was worried that the opening would be too small for Hedwig to come through, but she scrunched herself in a little and walked right on through. When she got out, though, she had to take a huge stretch, making Mitch back away momentarily. 

Mitch was wondering if it would have been easier to pay the hotel extra so he could keep a pet in his room. But then he realized that that would have led to unnecessary attention. Coulson needed stealth for this operation. 

Did he really need the owl or was Coulson just making things harder on him? He gave Hedwig a questioning look while she sat on the back of a chair and preened herself. She looked up and chirped at him. 

Mitch groaned. With his supplies, he had a kit of putty for glass he only wanted to temporarily replace. He set to work fixing the window. He cut himself on the outside pane. It was going to be a lot of trouble getting Hedwig in and out of this place.

It was cool to have actual spy gadgets. But sometimes the work involved in covering his tracks was less than glamorous.

Mitch’s phone buzzed from a message. It was Coulson, checking to see if he’d reached the hotel. He had a few ideas for vaguely-worded texts he could send to Coulson to tell him that the owl might be a lot more trouble than the spider kid. But he replied simply that he was fine and arrived safely. Coulson responded almost immediately:

Glad to hear it. Time to get to work.

Mitch looked at Hedwig. “Mind hanging out in here?”

Hedwig gave him little more than a glance. She was cool with whatever. Mitch had grabbed a newspaper earlier, and he spread it on the floor beneath the chair and in the seat. He also drew some water in a bowl for her and put out some of the owl food Coulson had sent with him on a towel. He had said that Hedwig wouldn’t want to hunt in the city. “The rats up here are toxic, she says,” Coulson had told him. 

Mitch put his blazer back on and headed for the doorway. “See ya later.” 

Sadly, Mitch didn’t see any sign of Spider-man while he was out that afternoon. There was a report of Spider-man saving someone who had fallen off a bridge. By the time Mitch got there, he was long gone, and there weren’t any witnesses. Going back and forth from the bridge, however, however, he got to visit some sites that were related to the cartel case. He had dinner at a hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop. Mitch had been to New York before, twice, but never to Queens. When he got back to the hotel that evening, he reviewed some of the case briefings he’d been given. The file on one of the suspects, an Emiliano Urrea, revealed that he had dealings with the pawn shop right across the street. Mitch was pretty sure that Coulson had picked this hotel on purpose, to keep the Feds off the Spider-man case. Mitch sent Coulson an email asking how to proceed with the pawn shop, either walk in or have a stake-out. Mitch spent a few minutes at the window watching the pawn shop, even. Hedwig would sit on the sill sometimes. Mitch told her what he knew, and to keep an eye out. Coulson had told him that the owl was as good as any watchdog. He let her out briefly for an evening flight. He passed the hour or so before bed sitting on the bed watching the local news and petting Hedwig. The news networks were mum about Spider-man. And there was nothing happening as far as crime that looked related to the cartel he was supposed to be tracking. But Hedwig was an all-right companion. 

 

The next day, Mitch got up at the crack of dawn to check his e-mail and set out to look for...whatever it was he would have the luck of finding. He didn’t care much which. He went by the school where Spider-man had stopped the car wreck last week. He hid under the awning of a nearby store and watched the students during passing period. He wondered if he could go in and ask questions, but it would be too easy for him to come off as creepy to those high schoolers (he had a hard time not thinking of them as little kids). He’d have to ask Coulson about how he could get in legally. 

He decided to leave off the Spider-man case for the time being and go check on the drug cartel. He went back to one of the places he had visited the previous night, a bar where several of the suspects were known to hang out a few subway stops down from his hotel. It would have been too obvious for him to walk in and ask for a “drink” (and Mitch didn’t drink anyway). But there was a sidewalk cafe across the street. He sat down and played games on his phone, watched You-Tube videos, including a few Spider-man ones. Tried not to look bored.

Two hours passed in this manner. He started to worry that Hedwig might be getting antsy stuck in the hotel room. He got up wearily and headed back to catch the next subway.  
The first stop after he got on, he noticed a woman get on the train. It was early spring but for some odd reason she was wearing a fur coat with a really high collar. She wore heavy makeup over her coppery skin, and her brown hair was highlighted blonde and piled in golden curls on top of her head. It was kind of hard to not take his eyes off of her. She was the kind of woman who demanded attention by her very presence. Mitch watched her for a few moments. There was a distinct possibility that she was one of his suspects. The woman never noticed him. She did, however, see somebody she apparently knew and started to talk to them in rapid Spanish, another well-dressed lady. It was small talk. The woman played with her hair and talked about her most recent visit to the hair salon. 

Mitch and the woman in the fur coat got off the subway at the same place. After they reached the street, the woman pulled out a cell phone and started talking into it in English, though Mitch couldn’t hear her very well. Mitch decided he would leave her for the time being and head back to the hotel to check on Hedwig. If she was visiting the pawn shop, chances were she would stay close by. 

The subway station was a block and a half from the hotel. The light at the crosswalk was red, so he walked until he reached the curb. Mitch was tired. He’d already had a long day with lots of thinking and little action. He really didn’t know if he wanted to go back to his room for a break or go back to just crash. 

The traffic signal changed to allow cars to turn left onto the street beside him. But on the far side of the street, he glimpsed a woman bent double, trying to catch a toddler who was walking--

Right into the open traffic.

“MICHAEL!” She screamed. 

There was a squeal of car tires, and the driver of the approaching vehicle swerved wildly to avoid the child. The child, presumably a boy, began crying as he continued to walk across the intersection, away from his mother. A car coming from the other direction hit the breaks, but it was too late. 

Mitch had the notion for half a second that it was going to end very badly.

A comet of red and blue came and scooped up the child. Mitch almost didn’t see the landing. But the shape bounced up on a gossamer thread to the side of the building across the street, landing a good hundred feet above the door to the used bookstore. And then it jumped back down to the sidewalk where the child’s mother was. 

And all of that happened in less than ten seconds. 

The screech of more car tires and the honking of car horns rang through his head like they were waking him from a dream. He looked across the street through the passing cars. There was a crowd gathering on the opposite side. And then the red and blue figure streaked away. 

The people standing next to Mitch had their cell phones out, recording whatever was left to see, oblivious to the fact that the traffic signal had allowed them to walk. Mitch didn’t remember that he had his phone on him until that moment--if only he had known it was coming. He had seen it! He had seen the Spider-man in action, with his own eyes! RIGHT THERE! IN FRONT OF HIM! IN THAT VERY STREET.

The feeling of elation that Mitch had as he crossed the street and returned to his hotel room was unreal. He almost felt like screaming--the good kind. 

All the way to the hotel door, the people around him were talking, “Spider-man this”, “Spider-man that”. The words were still buzzing in his ears when he got to his room.

Hedwig was sitting on the window sill. But she swiveled her head around at Mitch when he entered.

“DID YOU SEE THAT, HEDWIG?” Mitch shouted, not caring if the people in the other rooms heard him. “Did you see that?”

She screeched at him and flapped her wings in agitation. She must have.

Mitch got on his computer. There was a ten-second clip of the rescue going around on Twitter--not so much the actual rescue but Spider-man returning the child to his mother. And Mitch had reached his computer only twenty minutes after the incident. Spider-man had even stopped to receive the woman’s thanks and to give the kid a high-five. 

He’s...so caring, Mitch thought. Likes to have fun, but still cares about the people he saves. 

Mitch wanted to tell himself that he was lucky to have seen anything of the incident at all, that that was probably the most he would see of Spider-man in action. But a part of him felt like there was more to come. 

That evening after he went out to dinner he came back to his hotel room and wrote a letter. 

Dear Coulson,  
This afternoon when I was returning to my hotel I had a quick glimpse of Spider-man. He swung out of nowhere to save a kid that had wandered out into the middle of the road. I thought kids in New York were smarter than that anyway, someone else posted a clip of the rescue so you can see for yourself. I was across the street from where it happened, and it was really quick, too. 

I went to visit a school where Spider-man stopped a car accident recently, ____ High. Just an unofficial stakeout. Didn’t see anything suspicious. I will detail a request in my paperwork tonight, but could I possibly get a pass so I can visit the school and talk to the students? The school happens to be the closest high school to my hotel. I think there’s a strong chance that he is close to this neighborhood.  
Mitch

Mitch rolled up the letter and then tied it securely around Hedwig’s leg. He undid the loose panes in the window and let Hedwig out to deliver the message. And then he got back on his computer to fill out the report on his “real” case.

 

He was making progress in that area, too. By the next day, Coulson had given him the order to do a close watch on the pawn shop. Mitch went to the pawn shop to trade in a silver watch that Coulson had given him. The watch was planted with a listening device, but it was so subtly designed that the buyer would never find it. Mitch kept his ear radio on. He could faintly hear the music from the radio playing in the background of the store. Judging from the sounds he could hear of change and bells and people talking, that the watch had been immediately put on display in a glass case by the cash register. Mitch went to the sandwich shop again for lunch. He ate and then walked back leisurely to the hotel, and then to the used book store. There was a park bench in front of the book shop, so he sat there and waited.

He did not have to wait for long. Just when he was no longer feeling full from his sandwich, the woman in the fur coat came out of the subway entrance. Today she was carrying a large, black pleather purse. She had a blinged comb in her hair, and she was wearing stilettos. Mitch returned his attention to his phone after a passing glance at her. She was one of their suspects in the cartel case. Her name was Bernadette Longoria. She had long been an agent of the San Ignacio cartel, working here in New York as a connection for the main group in Havana. 

She went to the pawn shop. The owner greeted her by name. With the secret microphone on the watch, Mitch listened in to their conversation. It started out warmly enough. Bernadette had a long-standing business relationship with the shop owner. But then her tone got darker when she asked him for something. A payment of some kind. The owner didn’t have it. He told her that the investment had not matured to the amount she wanted. Bernadette didn’t have anything on her she could trade for the additional money she needed (Mitch had to stifle a laugh). Bernadette was not impressed, but she kept her cool. She told the shop owner that she would come back. Mitch saw her walk out of the pawn shop to the subway. He got up and walked into the used bookstore to browse for a minute so she wouldn’t see him. 

He did some serious browsing in the book shop, but he was thinking intently all the while.The pawn shop dude sounded nervous. What had she given the broker to invest in? What was she planning to do with the return? And why did she need it so urgently? Was the FRP demanding money from the cartel? What for?  
Mitch idled away a few minutes reading some of the book jackets. Then he stepped back outside. No one else had been to visit the pawn shop since Bernadette had left. He didn’t have any inkling of when she would return or what she would be doing. So he went to the bakery across the street. The shop clerk immediately asked if he wanted to buy something. Mitch informed him he was simply browsing. Lucky the clerk was distracted, or else he would have seen the extremely frequent glances that Mitch shot out the shop window. 

Half an hour after Bernadette had left the pawn shop, a man emerged on the street, having just come off the subway. He was wearing a low hat and a jacket, but Mitch recognized him as one of the local cartel members, a guy named Dominic Vance. He had his hands buried deep in his pants pockets--one of them had to be holding a gun. And Veance was making a beeline for the pawn shop.

Mitch quickly said goodbye to the bakery clerk and turned to leave. He tried to keep his breathing and pace normal as he walked towards the crosswalk to head across the street. But he could hear the conversation inside of the pawn shop. Vance had pulled his gun out. He was ordering the pawnbroker to hand over the full amount of cash he needed. The broker was threatening to call the police. 

Mitch reached inside his jacket for his gun and a pair of handcuffs. He had the numbers for the local police and the Manhattan SHIELD office ready to dial on his phone. He was going to walk in there, arrest the guy, and start grilling him for information about the rest of the cartel. It would be the biggest score of Mitch’s short career at SHIELD.  
But then he heard the broker stop talking. He heard drawers opening and closing. It sounded like he was actually going to give Vance the money. Mitch started to walk faster down the sidewalk. Whatever. He was going to nab Vance anyway. 

Vance burst through the door of the pawn shop, still holding out his gun as he walked out. “I’m warning you!” he shouted. “Do not call the police! We will --”  
He had no sooner emerged from the doorway than a red and blue streak bounded out of nowhere and knocked him to the ground. Vance screamed.  
Mitch ran. He got his handcuffs out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you quite that hard,” Spider-man was saying. “But you know, maybe I need to stop apologizing for hurting the guys who deserve it.”  
Vance yelled and grabbed Spider-man by the shoulders. Apparently Spider-man had not been expecting retaliation, and he got knocked to the ground. But he was almost instantly back on top of Vance, and he threw a couple of punches to knock him out. 

“It’s okay, mister!” Spider-man shouted to the broker in the pawn shop. “I’ll tie him up. You call the police.” Mitch glanced inside the pawn shop. The broker was equal parts shaken and confused. Spider-man stood up and shot his webs around Vance, creating a sticky blanket that pinned him to the sidewalk.  
Mitch stopped about a foot away from where Vance was lying. He could hear through his radio that the broker was calling the police. 

Spider-man brushed his hands off with satisfaction. 

“He should be safe and tight,” he commented, noticing Mitch. His voice was slightly muffled in the mask, but buoyant and boyish. “Snug as a bug in a rug, if I do say so myself.” Spider-man cocked his head. “But what do you got those for?” he pointed at Mitch’s handcuffs.

“Oh, uh, that was just in case,” said Mitch, hiding them behind his back.

“Were those real?”

“That’s none of your concern,” said Mitch. “It’s nice to meet you, Spider-man. I’m a big fan.” He held out a hand for his hero to shake--and he held on to his hand.

“Nice to meet you, too, bro,” said Spider-man. “Are you from around here?”

“I currently live in D.C.,” Mitch said. “I’m up here for the week on business.” 

“What kind of business?”

He quickly brought the handcuffs around and clapped one of them around Spider-man’s wrist. 

“Business that you just interfered with,” said Mitch with a slight sneer. “You’re coming with me.” He was holding on to the other cuff with his left hand.

Spider-man glanced at the handcuff and then looked up at Mitch. “Um, how about no?”

“The guy you just webbed happened to be my suspect. I can bring you in for disrupting an investigation.”

“Oh yeah?

“Yeah, smarty-pants.”

Spider-man scoffed at him. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Before Mitch knew what was happening, Spider-man had launched himself into the air across the street. And Mitch was still holding on to the handcuff. Mitch really couldn’t do anything except just scream. Spider-man shot webs from building to building, swinging like a monkey or more like Tarzan on his webs, jumping between alcoves and window-sills and emergency stairways, going around city blocks and into narrow alleys and bouncing off of dumpsters. Mitch banged against nearly every surface that Spider-man bounced from as he carried him, getting bruises and scrapes like no one’s business. Amazingly he didn’t break any bones. Or get his arm yanked off. Or let go of the handcuff to begin with. 

“Calm down, will you?” Spider-man commented to him in passing as they swung around the town. 

Mitch just wanted it to be over with, either with them stopping or him falling to his death, whichever, it didn’t matter to him. 

And then it stopped. His body hit a horizontal concrete surface. He caught himself before he face-planted and broke his nose, but the impact hurt his arms. He rolled over and groaned pathetically.

“I don’t normally give people rides,” said Spider-man. “I’m sorry if I got you hurt from all that banging around.” He leaned over Mitch. “How old are you, anyway?” He could see the mouth moving under the mask, and the point of the nose, but not many details. Mitch was mostly mesmerized that he was so close to Spider-man’s face.

Mitch rolled over and sat on his knees. He caught his breath. And he looked around. They were in a half-built building. The roof they had landed on was surrounded by metal pilings. An unused crane stood nearby. They were in a construction site a mile or so from the hotel. 

“Okay, okay,” said Mitch. He looked up at Spider-man. Spider-man looked down at him. 

Mitch stood up slowly. He saw the handcuff still dangling from Spider-man’s wrist. “I can take that off.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Spider-man. He yanked at the chain of the cuff, and the metal snapped off like a piece of plastic, bent and broken. He handed it back to Mitch. “Here you go.”

It was all Mitch could do to keep from using an actual curse word out loud just then. He looked up at Spider-man. “How did you know about Vance holding up the pawn shop?”

“Oh, the dude? You know, he just looked kind of shady,” said Spider-man, shrugging. “I saw him on the other side of town earlier today. Meeting with some sketchy-looking people. Lady in a fur coat, you seen her?” Mitch nodded. “So I followed him.”

“Followed him, eh?” Very presumptuous. “Where did you see him earlier?”

“I was just swinging around Corona. I just follow shady people around. Occasionally some of them will do something stupid, like hold up a bank or mug somebody. I just help out, you know. I like knocking sense into those people.”

Mitch shook his head. “And what makes you think you can just do that?”

“I’m a hero. I stop bad guys. I save people. It’s what I do.” He shrugged playfully.

“I’ll bet there’s a reason you let me hang on, you know,” said Mitch.

“Well, I didn’t ask you to hang on, did I? What’s so important about this Vance guy, anyhow?”

Mitch picked up on Spider-man’s curiosity. “He’s working for a Cuban drug cartel known as the San Ignacio brotherhood. They’re in town collaborating with a terrorist organization known as the Free Range Party to get their hands on heavy-duty weapons, we think.”

Spider-man put a hand on his chin. “That sounds fake, but okay. And you’re tracking them?”

“Yeah. ‘Spose I can come out and tell you.” Mitch opened his jacket to pull out his badge. “I’m Agent Mitch Sorensen of SHIELD.”

Spider-man swore. “No way! I thought you guys only did superhero stuff--you’re not actually tracking me, are you?”

“No, bumping into you was a happy coincidence,” said Mitch, (considering the pawn shop stakeout, he was being honest). “SHIELD actually isn’t doing that much with superheroes anymore. Besides, we monitor all kinds of threats. Including national security ones. The FRP is a group we’ve been trying to crack down on for a long time.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Spider-man, shaking his head.

“I’m being serious. Two months after I started working for SHIELD I was assigned to investigate the FRP, and they sent a couple of goons to kill me. They literally chased me out of my hotel room. These guys mean business.”

“Well, what do they want?”

“Unlimited access to natural resources. Unlimited restrictions on development and industry. They work for the far right--I mean the waaaay far right.” 

“You don’t say. And they’re working with these Cuban people?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, sounds like you’ve got quite the case.” Spider-man folded his arms. “I’d like to help you out.”

Mitch snorted. “You?”

“What, you don’t want my help? I just helped you nab a guy--and they totally tried to kill you once. Didn’t you just say they’re terrorists?”

“Yeah, they are. But I don’t think this is an...ideal situation for a kid like you to be caught up in.”

Spider-man looked affronted. “A kid? I’m not a kid. You don’t know how old I am.”

“I’m sorry, what I meant to say was, with everything that’s happened to superheroes recently, like the Accords and Leipzig, it might not be such a good idea to get caught up in a, erm, high-profile investigation like this.”

“Aw, come on.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable,” said Mitch. “But I do think you have enough on your plate. So if you would be kind enough to let me down now, because I’m not sure there’s any real way of getting off this half-constructed building.”

Spider-man shook his head. “Come on, admit it! You want my help. You need me to help you. A guy like you, working all by yourself on a case like this?”

Who does he think he’s dealing with? Mitch thought. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, and I’ve got local law enforcement and SHIELD’s local ops to help me.”

Spider-man leaned up close to him. “But you just said you were a big fan. So you want my help, don’t you?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to Mitch until then. But he had to say no. “I wish I did. But I’m afraid you helping me might make things more complicated.”

Spider-man scuffed his foot on the concrete and cursed. “I guess I’ll get you down from the building now. Where you staying at?”

“No need to take me anywhere. Just drop me down on the street. I can figure out how to get there.”

“All right, cool. Just hang on to me.” Spider-man grabbed Mitch below the arms. He was only a little bit shorter than Mitch. He then conjured a web that he shot at an overhanging metal spar from the scaffolding of the construction site. He swung off with Mitch and then shot another web at a building across the street. They descended until they reached the sidewalk. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you?” Spider-man asked him when he was on solid ground again.

“Yes, I’m sure I can handle it,” said Mitch. 

“Whatever. I’ll see you around.” He shot another web and was gone in an instant.

 

Mitch caught a taxi to the police station where Vance had been taken. Vance refused to talk to the police. He also refused to talk to Mitch. So after an exhausting afternoon, Mitch went back to his hotel. He ate a light dinner and took a shower. He was working on the report when Hedwig arrived on his window sill. Mitch let her in the room through the cut glass and unrolled the letter tied to her leg--it was Coulson’s reply.

Mitch,

That must’ve been really cool to watch Spider-man in action. With any luck you’ll see him at it again while you’re up there.

I was able to get you a visitor pass to the high school. It was a bit of a stretch to convince our techs that your official mission had any ties to the school. But we’re counting on no one there actually asking what you’re up to. When you get time to visit the school, go to the office and show them your false ID and they’ll let you in. Follow your undercover protocol from the Indianapolis mission. I will call Newel College and explain what we’re doing. 

I have word from a source I will not mention that Tony Stark is in town and will be staying for a few days. He is staying at the Tower. You may want to swing by there if you can, although I hear that Ross is having the place watched. Tony might not be interested in visitors, either. Please don’t do anything that would tip off Tony that we’re watching him or his protege. And don’t take any unnecessary risks with your other mission--that’s not what you’re really here to do. 

Hedwig should be ready for a bath and a good night’s rest when she gets to you.  
Coulson

Mitch folded up the letter. He was more anxious than ever to send Coulson a reply. In fact, Spider-man would have to be mentioned in the official report, too, for attacking Vance. He would save the story of being carried off for the handwritten version. 

Mitch drew a cold bath for Hedwig, and while she was bathing he finished his report of the day’s work. And then he did research on Newel College, a Christian 2-year school that had opened up three years ago right here in Queens. Late last fall, Mitch had gone undercover in Indianapolis as a recruiter for a local college, and been able to get information from high school students who might not have otherwise divulged things for him. And Mitch wasn’t afraid to play the part. In college at the University of Utah, he had been a recruiter for the PoliSci Club and heavily involved in the LDS Student Association. During the summers he’d go back home to California and sell pest control door-to-door. And he was a returned missionary. Handing out fliers and giving people information was second nature to him. He’d almost gone into business instead of political science. But having a cause was what inspired Mitch, more than actually selling things. 

With Hedwig out of the tub, Mitch got out his notebook paper and started writing his reply to Coulson. He looked up at Hedwig once or twice and saw her watching him. Then she flew over to the table where he was writing. She wasn’t in his way, really, but she leaned over him to observe his work. As far as Mitch knew, owls couldn’t read. 

He looked up at her. “What do you want?”

Hedwig turned her head sideways at him--rather the same way Spider-man had done that afternoon.

“I’m writing a letter,” Mitch told her. “Isn’t that obvious?”

She clicked her beak at him. 

Mitch figured it out. “You want to know what it’s about, don’t you?” She bobbed her head. Mitch laughed. “All right. So I was doing a stakeout at the pawn shop, right?” He told Hedwig the story of what had happened with Spider-man. She didn’t betray any sign of amusement at the tale, but she had comprehended. Mitch finished writing his letter. 

I don’t think letting Spider-man help us with the official case is a good idea. If he’s as young as Cap says he is, and I think that it’s very likely, he’d be more likely to get hurt than to be of any real help. But on the other hand, I think it might be a way to gain his trust. What do you think? 

I’m going to go to the school tomorrow. If it is where Spider-man’s alter ego attends, I can hope he doesn’t recognize me. I’ll try doing my hair a little differently, see if that helps.  
Mitch

Mitch got ready for bed and spent a little while watching television to decompress. 

 

Early the next morning, Mitch set out for Newel College to visit their recruiting office. He left his blazer at the hotel, hoping the less professional appearance would make him look more approachable. He’d also abandoned his usual spiked hairstyle for a comb-over. If Spider-man saw him, he would have to look twice to recognize him. 

At Newel, the admissions secretary said she would await Coulson’s call, and in the meantime she was more than happy to give Mitch some brochures to give out. The college he’d recruited for in Indiana hadn’t minded him using them for a cover, either. The arrangement benefited both parties: the college got more exposure, and Mitch could get information from high schoolers. 

He swung by the police station to check on the suspect (who was still uncooperative) and went to the school around lunchtime. He checked in at the school office and showed them the ID for Mike Charles. They gave him a visitor badge and he headed for the cafeteria.

Entering the school cafeteria was like stepping back in time to his own high school days. He’d gone to a school nearly this size in Orange County, California. He remembered what it was like, to take a break in the middle of the day and try to forget about homework and classes for a short while, and spend time talking with friends. It would have been nice to sit back and reminisce and just watch, but he had a job to do. He took a position close to the cafeteria door and started handing out brochures and telling people about Newel College. If the students asked if he went there, he lied and said he’d been going for only a semester and he was studying finance. But most of the people who came in ignored him, or just nodded and said hi. That was all right. That was how people at the U had acted when he was handing out flyers on campus (And he had it on good authority that it was the same case down at BYU).

After a minute or two where he hadn’t passed out any brochures, Mitch decided to walk around the lunch room. A few people nodded at him and said hi. A couple of tough-looking guys demanded to know his business.

But he didn’t stop until he got to the far side of the cafeteria, by the windows. A few younger-looking boys were laughing loudly at a joke that a female friend was telling them. Mitch remembered two of them from when they had entered the cafeteria: a fat hispanic boy with hair in his eyes, and a small, slight Caucasian boy with combed hair wearing a polo shirt. 

The laughter had subsided, and Mitch decided to take the moment to cut in. “How are you guys doing this afternoon?”

“Uh, fine,” said the white boy, looking uncomfortable.

“You know, it’s kind of rude, to just cut in and talk to people for no reason,” said the girl. She had blonde highlights in her dark hair and multiple piercings in her ears.

“Well, I have a good reason,” said Mitch. “My name is Mike. I’m a recruiter for Newel College.”

The kid in the polo shirt looked at him like he didn’t believe him. “Right. We saw you earlier.”

“Newel College, where’s that at?” asked the third boy, a black kid with glasses. 

“Right here in Queens,” said Mitch. “We’re not a very big school, though. Not surprising if you haven’t heard of us.”

“You got any swag, man?” asked the fat kid.

“Swag?”

“Yeah. We had a recruiter from one of those community colleges come in and he gave out free stuff. He had water bottles and key chains and those little plastic coin purses that you can’t really open.”

“Wasn’t that guy from Union Tech College?” asked the polo-shirt boy.

“No, the guy from Union Tech was giving out t-shirts. I can’t remember the name of that other college, though.”

“The bigger schools got the real swag, though,” said the glasses kid. “We had a guy from Columbia handing out lanyards and water bottles and notepads, and I got a really nice pen, too.”

“Yeah, well you gotta listen to whatever schpeel they need to give before they give you anything,” said Polo. “Not like their contact information isn’t already printed on the stuff.”

“What about them military recruiters, though? They don’t say anything unless you ask questions,” said the fat kid, eating a bite of potatoes. “They make you do push-ups, though, if you want their stuff.”

“So it’s not exactly free,” Polo added.

“Well, notice I’m not making you do push-ups for a brochure you could totally put in the recycling later,” said Mitch.

Polo looked up at him. “I’m not doing push-ups for you.”

“Who said anything about push-ups?”

He shrugged and looked down. “I might break something.”

“I might break my whole body, if I did a push-up,” said the fat boy.

“Well, what are you doing here talking to us?” the girl snapped. “We don’t want to go to your school. We’re sophomores. We don’t need to worry ‘bout college yet. Besides, I ain’t goin’ to college.”

“Oh, really, what are you doing?” Mitch asked her.

“I’m goin’ to cosmetology school.”

“Really? It’s funny that you’d mention that because Newel College just opened a new cosmetology program.”

The girl only glared at him.

“Seriously, guys, it’s not too early to start thinking about your future. If you do well enough in high school, you can go to any college you want and start preparing for a career.” 

“This ain’t some drama movie where you can make me care,” said the girl. 

“Chillax, Carla,” said Glasses. “I’m thinking about college. Tell me about your school.”

“MInd if I sit down?” Mitch asked, indicating the spot next to the fat boy, across from Glasses. 

“Go ahead.”

“What are your names, might I ask?” Mitch asked him.

“I’m Lewis. This is Carla and Enrique, we call him Ernie.” He indicated the girl and the fat boy in turn. Ernie nodded at Mitch.

“And I’m Peter,” said Polo, leaning over the table from the other side of Ernie so Mitch could see him.

“Hi, how you doin’ ?” Mitch reached around Ernie to shake hands with Peter. “So, Newel College is a brand-new school, started about three years ago,” he began. “If you’ve heard about us at all, you would know that we’re a Christian school, and we like to cater to people of faith. Most schools these days are pretty hostile to religion. But our philosophy is to encourage diversity by encouraging belief rather than a lack of it. And supporting our common values. Our programs include lots of community outreach and service. But of course you don’t have to be a practicing Christian to apply.”

“Well, how does that work if you have lots of liberal professors, though?” asked Peter.

“That does make hiring difficult, but the beauty of this school is, Newel College was founded by a group of people of faith within academia who felt like they needed a space where their religious affiliation wouldn’t be so attacked. Our professors have to at least tolerate religious belief. Newel College is known to be a place for open discussion. It’s a non-denominational school, and like I said our students don’t even have to be Christian. We enroll lots of Muslim students.”

“How ‘bout you, man, do you do the whole religion thing?” Ernie asked him.

“Yes. I’m a Mormon, actually,” Mitch told him.

Peter raised his eyebrows. 

“That’s neat,” said Lewis. 

“Are there any Mormon kids at this school?” 

“Only a few that I know about.” Lewis took a few bites of his meat loaf.

“There’s Shawn Peterson on the basketball team, he’s Mormon,” said Peter.

“What? No way,” said Carla.

“But he goes to all the parties though, doesn’t he?” asked 

“He only goes to some of them. And that’s because he’s the designated driver,” said Lewis.

Mitch snorted. He’d been in that position before.

“They let Mormons play basketball?” asked Carla.

Mitch nearly spat. “Duh. Basketball is life. The Church puts on ball tournaments all the time.”

Peter pointed to a group of tall black guys seated at a table in the middle of the cafeteria. “As far as I know, Shawn has been Mormon his whole life, but I don’t know him very well. He’s the guy in the jersey. The Larkins moved here from upstate,” Peter continued, pointing to a girl seated off to the right. “That’s the sister, Melanie. She’s a junior. Her brother Rich is a freshman, but he actually skipped eighth grade so he’s thirteen and taking all the advanced classes.”

“Rich Larkin is a nerd,” said Carla, saying ‘nerd’ like it was an illness.

“What’s wrong with that?” said Peter.

“Well, not a nerd like you,” Carla retorted.

“Are you saying there’s a difference?”

“Well, yeah, you’re not...lame.”

Ernie looked at Peter. “That’s a first, man.” To Mitch he added, “And then there’s Carlotta Lumiquez. She’s a senior, and she’s talking about going on a mission after she does a year of college. I think her family goes to a Spanish church for Mormons.”

“Spanish ward, cool,” Mitch clarified.

“And then there’s Whitney Davis,” said Peter, pointing with his fork across the room. “She’s the one standing up just now.” She had long blonde hair and looked perfect. “She moved here from Utah earlier this year. She’s part of the preppy clique. She’s got like ten brothers and sisters.”

“Got it,” said Mitch.

“How many wives does her dad have?” asked Ernie.

“One,” said Lewis.

“They basically blend in,” said Peter. “But I heard they do this early-morning religion study, what’s it called?”

“Seminary?” asked Mitch.

“Seminary, thank you,” said Peter. “Yeah. They go to that every morning before school. They meet in the Catholic community center, behind Saint Vincent’s with the other Mormon kids in this part of town.” He added in a whisper, “I saw Whitney sleeping in class this morning.” 

“How early does she get up for that?” Lewis asked in astonishment.

“Well, most places outside of Utah, early-morning Seminary is at six,” said Mitch. “If she’s getting up before then to do her hair and makeup, I’d say five or five-thirty.”

Peter and Carla both cussed. 

“I could never do that,” said Lewis. 

“I also heard a rumor that Marcos Gutierrez is meeting their missionaries,” said Ernie. “But they say he doesn’t want to give up coffee. But I think he’s scared of the morning class, too.”

Mitch shrugged. “It’s not for everybody. But yeah, there’s a few of us going to Newel. We attend Institute with the other community colleges in the area. Not all of us can afford to go all the way to BYU.” He was trying very hard not to laugh at the comment about his real alma mater’s rival. 

“Does Newel College do intercollegiate sports?” Lewis asked.

“No, we don’t. Do you play?” Mitch asked him.

“No. I was just curious. It might be interesting to go to a school that doesn’t place an emphasis on athletics.”

“Yeah, well, Newel is a small college and not having any sports is an even bigger drawback than the religious emphasis. But a lot of the students, in their free time, they get together and play sports at the park or the local athletic clubs. It’s a great school to go to if you like an inner-city environment.”

“Right,” said Peter, nodding. Mitch was starting to think that Peter didn’t like him for some reason. Like he didn’t take Mitch’s word for it that he went to Newel College. Or that there was something familiar about his voice or the way he moved his head.

“Look, this is all very interesting,” said Carla. “But if we want to know about your school, we can look you up on the internet, all right?”

“There’s certainly more where this came from,” said Mitch. “Mind if I leave you a brochure?”

“Go ahead,” said Lewis, holding out his hand. Peter accepted one as well.

Mitch climbed off of the bench. “Well, you guys enjoy the rest of your day, all right?”

“Sure,” said Peter. 

“See ya,” said Lewis.  
Mitch made his way slowly around the cafeteria. He would say hi to some people and ask if they were interested in a brochure. He would stop and talk longer occasionally, but never got to the level of engagement that he had with Peter and Lewis’ group. Once he was stopped by a group of well-dressed senior girls, but some of them were very dismissive of the fact that Newel College was a Christian school. He decided he would make his way over to where the Whitney girl was seated. She was deep in conversation, but the table next to hers people were gossiping about Spider-man. Mitch stopped to listen. Time drew near for the lunch bell to ring, and people began to get up from their seats and leave the cafeteria. After Whitney’s table had left without him getting a chance to talk to them, he turned to look at the table in the back. The other three were deep in conversation and joking again, but Peter had his eyes on Mitch.

And that was when Mitch realized who Peter was.

 

He made a brief trip to his hotel during the afternoon, but after using the toilet, changing his hair back to normal and putting away his extra Newel College brochures he headed straight back to the high school.

He didn’t know where to begin. Peter wasn’t stupid. He would know that he was being stalked. And he would likely retaliate. Spin up Mitch in a web and leave him to hang somewhere. Fat lot of good that would do, if Mitch ended up like that. He made it to the school just as classes finished. After a few minutes sulking in the shade of one of the shops across the street just watching people walk out, he decided that it wasn’t any good. 

Back to his other case. There was an office building in Queens a short taxi ride away where one of their top suspects had a day dob. Terri Marcson, 32, originally from Dallas, Texas, currently residing on Staten Island, was the Free Range Party’s go-between to the San Ignacio cartel. She was the one who had the hookup with heavy-assault weapons that San Ignacio wanted to get their hands on. It was a safe bet that she would be getting off from work in a short while. Mitch would love nothing better than to find out what she was planning after.

Wearing his cool spy sunglasses, he emerged from the taxi in front of the office building. There was nothing unusual about the place at first glance--cars in the parking lot, street lights, asphalt, people going back and forth. He went to pick a loitering position by the front revolving door. 

And then on a casual glance across the parking lot, he saw it: the bright purple Ferrari. The people who worked here couldn’t typically afford cars like that, could they? Something was up.

Maybe...the owner of one of the businesses in this building decided to drop by, he thought to himself. 

He tried to return his focus to looking bored, but he kept looking back over at the Ferrari. Holy smoke, who drives a car like that?

Tony Stark, maybe.

He saw an approaching figure on the sidewalk headed towards his building. The person was rather short, and they were wearing a backpack and a white hoodie, hood up. Mitch squinted. He recognized the face.

Oh crap, it’s the kid.

He was having a low-key internal panic attack. He decided his next move would be to head into the building. So he stepped forward towards the revolving door just as it started moving. 

The person who came out was definitely someone he had not expected to see here in Queens: Lester Tuttle, a tall, oddly-shaped blond man about his age that he had been in the  
Political Science program with at the University of Utah. 

“Oh my gosh, Sorensen!” Lester stopped in his tracks and gaped. 

Mitch pulled down his sunglasses. “Lester, oh my gosh. What are you doin’ here?”

“I work here!” Lester began laughing loudly. “Bro, it’s great to see you! Gimme a hug!” 

“SHHHH!” said Mitch as Lester pulled him into an embrace. Peter walked past him as he was still in the act of holding his finger over his mouth. But he was looking directly ahead. Mitch had know way of knowing if Peter had seen him or not.

Lester pulled back. “What are you doing here?”

“Okay, dude, I need you to keep quiet, I’m actually doing a stakeout right now.”

“A stakeout?”

“Yeah, a legit stakeout,” said Mitch, lowering his voice as someone came out of the building. “I’m a government agent.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Who do you work for?”

“SHIELD.”

“SHIELD? THE SHIELD? Oh my gosh. That’s awesomesauce.”

“Not so loud!” said Mitch. He froze as the revolving door turned again. A woman with a dirty blonde bob wearing a business suit came out--that was his suspect. Mitch was ready to bolt away from Lester and follow her.

“Do you know the Avengers?”

Absolute wrong time for that question. “I knew them, before the fiasco in Germany happened,” said Mitch. He was about to excuse himself. But Lester kept on talking.

“Well, hey, you’ll never guess who was here today?”

“Who?” Mitch couldn’t care less.

“Tony Stark!”

Now Mitch suddenly cared. “Stark? He was here?”

“Yeah, right before I got off work. He came to visit one of the other companies, Greater New York Technology. Apparently they’re owned by Stark Industries.”

Terri Marcson could wait. Spider-man was in the building. He had obviously come here to meet with Tony Stark. This could be his big chance to prove that they were collaborating.

Mitch calmed down. “That’s awesome. Thanks for telling me, man.” He patted Lester’s arm. 

“No problem--are you following him?”

“No.”

Now who do you work for?”

“Brightway Mutual Insurance. The pay is great, man.”

“That’s awesome. We should hang out sometime. I’m in New York on business, I actually live down in D.C., currently. Look me up on Facebook. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment inside.”

“It was great seeing you man. Take care!”

“You too!”

Mitch almost ran through the revolving door. He put away his sunglasses. 

Is there somebody tracking me and are they paying Lester? Mitch wondered to himself. Good grief, I hope not.

Entering the main floor, he looked around. He was in a lobby for a law firm. Obviously Stark wouldn’t be meeting with Peter in one of the office suites, or down here with all of these people. 

The hallway went straight through to a door on the far side with blinds pulled over it. Mitch walked down the hallway to the back door. The back area of the building was an open office space with cubicles, but most of them were empty. Peeping through the blinds on the door, he saw that it led to a back alley. And there was a figure in a white hoodie seated on top of a balcony attached to the building across the way. 

Mitch couldn’t have planned it better. 

Mitch dug in his coat for one of his gadgets--a listening device that could pick up sound through solid glass. He fumbled as he heard people clamoring in the main lobby. People were exchanging greetings with Tony Stark. He left through the revolving door. He was going to walk around the building to go meet with Peter. Mitch stuck the device onto the door and switched it on. He crouched beside the door to where he could see into the alley. 

After a long thirty seconds or so, Tony Stark appeared. He was wearing a pale blazer, dark slacks, and sunglasses. He looked around the alley for the person he was meeting with. And then he saw Peter on the balcony above him.

“Parker, come down. You don’t need to sit up there like that.” He gestured to him.

Peter swung himself down the balcony and descended on a thin thread of spider silk. He obviously carried around his web shooters with him. At least on some occasions. 

“How’s it goin’?” he asked Stark.

“Um, same as always,” said Tony, shrugging. He took off his sunglasses. “How about you?”

“I’m doin’ good. Still swinging around.”

“Swinging into anything cool, lately?” Stark asked him. Mitch wasn’t sure if Stark was being supportive or sarcastic.

“All the time,” said Peter eagerly.

“Yeah. Well, how about the Cuban mafia guy you dropped on yesterday?”

“What Cuban mafia?”

“In front of a Pawn Shop on Leaner Street, across from the hotel? Guy holding up the store, he was backing out when you just happened to bump into him?”

“Where did you hear about that?” asked Peter.

“I’ve programmed my AI to report anything spider-related on the police scanner. And I’m not talking about pest control, young man.”

“Oh. Okay.” Peter seemed a little unsettled. “Well, of course it wasn’t an accident, Mr. Stark. I was trying to stop him.”

“Well, what ever happened to stay out of things that are best dealt with by the police?”

“Look, Mr. Stark. The dude in the store couldn’t even call the police until I dropped on top of the robber, kay?”

“Which is exactly how you ended up in the police report.” 

Mitch listened closely. He was terrified that Stark would mention that SHIELD had been after the same suspect. Stark continued, “Now, Mr. Parker, I don’t know what you think I’ve been telling you, but it seems I need to tell you at least one more time: If you’re going to be a hero on your own, I need you to keep a low profile and not attract attention. Stay local and don’t do anything dramatic.”

“Attention? Sir, this was a run-of-the-mill holdup at a backwater pawn shop. It’s not like it ended up on the news. I haven’t been on the news yet, have I?”

“A couple times. But I can’t risk you getting caught by the authorities. I can’t risk you getting into a situation that you can’t control. You know how things are.”

“What things?” asked Peter, sounding alarmed. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, you remember what happened to the Avengers, right?”

Peter scoffed. “This is nowhere near that big.”

“It’s only a matter of time before you go after something like that. Before something big like that does happen, and you can’t help thinking you need to fix it.”

“Keep your shirt on, Stark. It’s not like the Chitauri invasion is gonna happen again--that’s what those aliens were called, right?”

“Oh, no, I’m not worried about that,” said Stark, waving his hands in denial. “But I’m thinking something more like an international terrorist decides to plant a bomb in Grand Central Station on a weekend when I’m not here, and the only person to stop them is you, and you not only fail to stop them--”

“I won’t fail to stop them, geez. You really think I can’t do it? Why did you let me tag along with you to Germany?” There was a pause, and Peter continued, “I’ll save the day, no problem.”

“But what if you don’t?” 

“Well, I’ll deal with it.”

“Peter, Peter,” said Tony, rubbing his face, “when you’re a grown-up, you don’t just deal with things. You have to plan ahead to accept the consequences of things going wrong. And you can’t just keep letting things go wrong. I’ve had to learn that the hard way.”

There was a longer silence. “Look,” said Peter, sounding timid, “I understand what you’re worried about, a little. I got a taste of the big leagues in Leipzig and it was fun. I like being able to go around town and save the day. The suit you’ve given me, it’s made my job so much easier. It’s worked wonderfully. I am grateful. But I’m not in trouble yet. I haven’t been caught by anybody big. I haven’t done anything stupid. And I don’t have the news media calling me out as a dangerous felon. So don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with it when it happens, kay? Cross that bridge when we get there.”

“No,” said Stark sharply. “We are not crossing that bridge.” He sounded like a parent trying to rebuke a child for a foolish idea, rather than someone angry and overprotective. “You need to set boundaries for yourself, son. Try to get a feel for what you can do without, you know, making anybody angry at you.” 

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t be rescuing people?” Peter asked, sounding a little angry.

“I’m saying you should be careful. You don’t have to jump into every single armed robbery and car accident in town.” Stark took Peter by the shoulder and walked him down the alley towards Mitch. Mitch backed away from the window. “You need to focus on...being there when you’re needed the most. When you can make a difference.”

“But...I thought that’s what I was doing. I thought this was about helping people?”

“And that’s a laudable goal, son. But there’s a time and a place for superhero intervention. If people are always waiting for somebody bigger and stronger to come and help them, then they’ll never help themselves. And if you mess up, then they won’t like you.”

They passed almost out of range of Mitch’s listening device. 

“Why are you trying to tell me what to do?” Peter asked. He sounded exasperated.

“I’m trying to protect you,” said Stark. “That’s what any responsible grownup should do.”

“But--”

“Just let me give you a little practical advice before you get too carried away. Choose your targets wisely. Not just who, but when and where. There’s a lot more to this hero business than you think. And it’s not a game, kid. Is that understood?”

“Uh...yeah,” said Peter. He sounded a little dejected after his dressing-down.

“Okay, good. I didn’t come here to lecture you. I’m sorry if I did.” Stark sounded sincere.

“It’s okay,” Peter told him. “Aunt May gets carried away too, sometimes.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Stark. “How’s school going?”

“It’s all right. I...still have all A’s. I got the top score in the class on my Chemistry test.”

“Excellent,” said Stark. He patted Peter on the shoulder. “Well, remember what I said. Keep your head down. I suppose I’ll see you around.” 

“Take care, sir,” said Peter. Stark finished walking through the alley back to the parking lot and his Ferrari. Peter put his hood up and walked the other way.

The conversation that Mitch had just witnessed gave Mitch a lot of food for thought. Stark seemed a little...condescending to Peter. He was trying to set boundaries for the kid, but the kid wasn’t staying in them. Spider-man had been a YouTube sensation before Stark had recruited him for Leipzig, so obviously he wasn’t used to following orders. 

Mitch stood up in the empty office space, the listening device in his hand. He leaned against an empty cubicle. Since when had Stark been the kind to follow orders, either? According to Coulson, his morale had taken a blow after Sokovia. And now with the Accords and the disaster that had befallen in implementing them, of course Stark would be even more worried about other superheroes he was working with.

Tony Stark seemed trapped in a vicious cycle. The last time he’d tried to protect someone, it hadn’t ended well. And now he was trying to protect someone who was both self-sufficient and posing an even greater threat.

It’s the Accords all over again, Mitch thought. He’s trying to set rules for Spidey to follow, but Peter doesn’t see the need to listen. Because that’s what you have to do when you’re a hero: you have to take the chance of not saving everyone. Not all disasters are preventable, even by the best laws. Mitch felt bad for Tony, who was trying so hard to play the responsible superhero and yet couldn’t get the colleagues he cared about the most to do the same. But now Mitch could understand Steve Rogers’ point of view on the Accords as well: if someone else was saying when you could or couldn’t go out to save the day, then what point was there being a hero?

Mitch headed back to the front door of the office building. But he nearly stopped cold in his tracks when he realized it: Spider-man had been conned into going to Leipzig. A teenage kid, relatively unknown superhuman with incredible powers, hadn’t signed the Accords--and sounded like the kind of person who didn’t agree with them. But would Tony have told Peter the whole truth about what was happening? He just needed him to help him arrest some fellow superheroes that had gone astray. Had it been Mitch, he would have taken up Stark on that in a heartbeat. 

I need to have a talk with Cap, next time I’m in Mesa, Mitch told himself. Ask him how long this has been going on.

Of course, Steve wouldn’t like to hear about what Stark was really up to.

The trail of his FRP suspect, of course, had gone cold. Mitch decided he would head back for his hotel. He stopped to take a few notes on his phone of what he had heard and seen from Stark’s conversation with Peter. He decided he would walk and take the subway around to see if he could observe anything related to his case. It seemed like nice enough weather for a walk. 

He hadn’t gotten more than a block away from the office building, however, when he heard somebody calling from behind. “Hey! Hey, you!”

Mitch turned around. Peter Parker was standing a few feet behind him. His hood was still up, but not very low.

“Do I know you?” asked Peter.

Mitch had no idea how to answer that question. He hadn’t planned on meeting Peter as himself, much less expected it.

Peter ran up to Mitch and grabbed him by the tie, choking him, and dragged him behind a nearby building. Peter slammed Mitch against the wall with a lot more strength than Mitch knew was normal for a kid his age and size.

“What’s the big idea?” said Peter. “Are you stalking me or something? What do you want?” There was an edge of anger on his voice, but the expression that Mitch could read most easily on his face was fear. 

Mitch tried to squirm out of Peter’s grip--it was like being pinned to the wall by a steel girder. “How did you know--”

“I’m not stupid, Mr. Secret-Agent-Whoever! I totally saw through your disguise at the school earlier. And I saw you walking away from the building where I just had a meeting with Mr. Stark. That was private, you know!”

“Okay, kid, can you calm down? I wasn’t even planning on finding your meeting with Stark. I was looking for someone else!”

“But why are you after me?” 

“Peter, please listen, I have no intention of hurting you. SHIELD didn’t even want to go after you.” He took a deep breath. “Secretary of State Ross might be coming after you. He may be trying to pin Stark.”

“Do you work for him?”

“No, I work for Phil Coulson, at SHIELD! He’s a friend of Stark’s.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. Then in a quiet voice, he said, “I thought you were my friend, Mitch.”

Mitch’s insides collapsed. But he was more determined to prove his point. “Just let go of me. I’ll explain everything!”

“You got it.” Peter let go of Mitch’s shirt collar. Mitch dropped roughly to the ground. “Didn’t say I’d be easy on you.”

“Fair enough.” Mitch dusted his pants and rose to his feet. “Phil Coulson and Tony Stark used to be close. But they’ve...been estranged, recently.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. But Coulson found out recently that Secretary Ross was trying to figure out who you were. He doesn’t know if Stark would take a direct warning from him. And we didn’t have any proof that you two were working together anyway.”

“What’s the worst Ross could do to me?”

“We don’t know. You’re a minor. But he could make things pretty hard for you at school--on your family. I’m sorry about the duplicity, but I figured you didn’t need anyone else to know you had a secret agent on your tail.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s not like I would’ve told anyone.”

“My assignment to trail the Cuban drug cartel is only a cover for my secret assignment to protect you. I was following a suspect on that case when I saw you headed for your meeting with Stark. And you were the higher priority, so...”

“Okay. I believe you.” But Peter wasn’t very happy about it.

“Coulson only wants to get a better idea of who you are so that we can protect you and the people you care about.”

“And...what do I need protection for?”

“He’s worried you might not be able to handle it all on your own.”

“I can handle it!”

“No, no, what I meant was, there might be people you don’t know about that are trying to cause you harm. SHIELD can cover people’s bases like that, we’ve done it for other superhumans for years.”

“I don’t see any reason for that. Extra threat protection, really?”

“Peter, the more prominent of a superhero you become, the more enemies you’ll make. And they won’t all come after you in broad daylight.”

“You sound just like Stark,” said Peter bitterly. He swore. “I am sick of all these freaking grownups!” He kicked a nearby garbage dumpster. On impact, there was a sickening crunch, and a large indentation appeared. Peter backed away, looking sheepish. 

Mitch took a deep breath and continued. “I was a teenager too, once. Not very long ago, in fact. And I hated when people told me what to do. But older people have more experience, they know what you’re up against.”

“No they don’t!” said Peter, glaring at Mitch.

“Well, you’re correct, to a point. They don’t know literally everything we’re going through or how we feel. But they’ve faced...challenges. You can’t really blame them for wanting to help you through yours. And if we can save you a little extra worry by...keeping an eye out for your friends and family...making sure no harm comes to them, SHIELD will do that.”

“No!” snapped Peter. “They’re not going to get in trouble just because I’m Spider-man! I mean, who does that, really?” 

“Well, do the cool kids at your school put up with their friends getting picked on by the other cool kids?”

“How should I know? I’m not that cool.”

“Well, you seem pretty cool to me.” Mitch went for an encouraging smile. 

Peter shook his head. “LIsten, dude, I’ve got this figured out. It’s simple. Nobody knows my secret identity, nobody hurts me, nobody hurts my family or my friends. We’re covered.”

“For right now,” said Mitch. “It’s been my experience, the easy times don’t last. The fewer secrets you keep, the easier it is to ask for help when you need it. We want to be there in case you need something.” 

“Well, I guess if you put it that way,” said Peter. He stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets. 

“Okay then,” said Mitch. “And...as far as Mr. Stark is concerned, it’s not just Secretary Ross. My boss and him...Coulson is just worried that Stark may have bitten off more than he could chew, trying to help you out. It’s a friendly favor, and not just a security interest thing going on here. You understand that, right?”

Peter gave a little nod. “Well, nothing bad’s happened yet, has it?”

“The way I saw Stark acting earlier, he thinks of you as a time bomb.”

“I’m not gonna go off, okay? You can tell your boss that I’m fine, and that Mr. Stark is fine, and we don’t need your protection.”

“Is there anything you do need?”

“Privacy. Which apparently you don’t have a lot of respect for. Suppose Stark finds out you’ve been tailing me?”

“You know that would be in nobody’s interest for that to happen. You keep my secrets, I keep yours. Deal?”

“Is that really all you want? Just to show me some friendly concern on behalf of someone else who wants to babysit me?”

Mitch sighed. “Technically. But I think Mr. Stark was right with what he said earlier--not in saying that you need to be not rescuing people, but that you need to be careful about how much attention you get. I’m only going to ask that you don’t make things harder for him.”

Peter cocked his head at Mitch. “And how do you expect me to do that?”

“That is a good question. I’m not really an expert on being a superhero. It’s my job to try and understand what that’s like, but it’s not the same. I’d suggest stay right here in New York. And don’t leave Queens that often.”

Peter nodded. “Not like I travel that much, but okay.”

“I’d suggest asking Stark for advice, on how to be more of a, you know, everyday superhero. And you know, maybe the fewer people who know you are Spider-man, the better. But you have to have people you trust on your side. Do your friends know?”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Well, it’s just something to think about. I’m not saying you should go public. But, build a support group. It doesn’t have to be me and Coulson or anyone at SHIELD...that’s pretty much the best advice I can give you. I wasn’t really planning on seeing you this up close and personal. Really.”

Peter sniffed. “You’re not very convincing.”

“Well, hey, before I go, is there anything or anyone that SHIELD needs to know about? Someone we could help keep a watch on? I mean, not, stalking 24/7, but just watch for, in case bad guys we know about go after them?”

Peter scrunched his face. “Gee. I dunno. Everybody I know is...pretty ordinary, except for Mr. Stark. And I--”

At that very moment, there was a loud vibration in Peter’s backpack. Peter excused himself and withdrew a cell phone from his backpack. 

“Hey, Aunt May, how’s it going?” He spoke into the phone with a lot of false bravado. “I’m being honest with you right now, Aunt May: I was actually on my way home for dinner. But I ran into a friend of mine.” Peter paced as he talked into the phone, kicking a rock as he went. “Um, a recent friend actually. His name is Mitch. He’s a...college student, yeah.” Peter was also used to lying. “One second.” Peter put the receiver down. “Hey, um, if it isn’t too awkward...my aunt says you’re welcome to come over to our place for dinner. If you don’t have any plans.”

On a number of levels, it was awkward. At the very least, it took Mitch off guard. “What are you having?”

“Hold on a second.” Peter relayed the question into the phone. “Does baked ziti sound good to you?”

“Yes, mm-hm,” said Mitch, nodding eagerly. 

“He’d be happy to join us,” Peter told his aunt. “All right, I’ll see you in a bit, then.” He hung up. “That was my aunt.”

“Does she normally invite friends that you just met over for dinner?” Mitch asked him.

“Yeah, she likes to have company over. It can get a little lonely with just the two of us, to be honest,” Peter shrugged. 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly going to offer to walk you home, but I’m happy to go with you--it saves me having to buy a meal.”

“Glad it works out,” said Peter. He and Mitch emerged from the alleyway side-by-side. Peter gave a quick glance up and down the street--to the casual observer it would seem innocent, but Mitch knew that Peter would be wary of anyone watching him. Mitch felt like his understanding of Peter Parker had shifted greatly from when they had entered the alley earlier.

Mitch decided to take a gambit and ask Peter about his family. “So, you live with your aunt?”

“Yep. It’s just me and Aunt May,” said Peter. 

“Just your aunt?” Mitch pressed.

“Yep.” He nodded, not looking at Mitch. They walked down the sidewalk of the main street.

Mitch wanted to ask if there was an uncle in the picture, or where Peter’s parents were. But his gut feeling told him he was not going to get any farther. He had better not damage Peter’s grudging trust in him asking for more details. If Peter wanted to talk about it, he would. 

So instead, Mitch asked Peter about school--about his classes, his interests, his hobbies apart from being Spider-man. As far as his social life, Peter’s closest friend was Ernie, and he didn’t have a lot of other people to hang out with. Mitch could tell by talking with him that Peter was phenomenally smart, smarter than he’d been at that age. He enjoyed studying mathematics and science but found the schoolwork tedious. He loved digging through dumpsters for old electronics, taking them apart and putting them back together again. 

“Why don’t you go to an advanced school, or take more advanced courses?” Mitch had to ask him. 

Peter sighed. “Aunt May doesn’t make a lot of money working, and she doesn’t like me going farther away from home than the school I’m already at. I’d love to go to Saint Vincents’ or somewhere brainy like that, but it’s either money or time we don’t have. And she doesn’t think I’d fit in with the kids at a different school, you know that? They’d all be richer than me, for starters. Or even smarter.”

“Well, if you could study anything at school, what would it be?” Mitch asked.

Peter scoffed. “I’d just ditch high school and go straight to college. Go to Columbia or MIT or something. Study...I dunno...engineering or physics or hard math. Learn to build stuff that people can use.” 

Mitch smirked. “And has...Mr. Stark made any arrangements for you, as far as school?”

Peter sighed. “I don’t dare ask him. If I started going to a special school or doing something with what he gave me--other than using the suit he built me--that would get people’s attention. I don’t want that. Aunt May wouldn’t want that. It was bad enough…” Peter broke off.

“Bad enough what?”

Peter lowered his voice. “First time I met Tony Stark, he was in the living room with Aunt May waiting for me to get home from school, chatting her up about a fake scholarship he wanted to give me.”

“Ah.” 

They crossed several of the busy streets and headed into a neighborhood that was a maze of apartment buildings. Mitch decided to entertain Peter with stories of his own high  
school days, and even college. For a moment, it was like he and Peter Parker were equals.

“Utah’s a great school, from what I hear,” Peter commented as he lead Mitch into his apartment building. “If it wasn’t so far out from here maybe I would consider going.”

“Didn’t stop me,” said Mitch.

“Well, you’re from California. That’s a lot freaking closer.”

“True.” Mitch still felt like his argument was relevant, but before he could come up with something else to say about it he was following Peter up the stairs to a third-floor apartment.

Just before Peter opened the door to his residence, he turned to Mitch and said, “Aunt May doesn’t know and I don’t want her to find out. Got it?”

Well, so much for Peter having a support group.

May Parker was a tall, gracious woman of not quite forty, with long dark hair and a winning smile. She looked more like a model than an aunt. The Jim Dale audio recording of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was playing as the dinner finished cooking--it was the scene where Harry was having dinner with the Weasleys’ before the Quidditch World Cup and the discussion of food was enough to intensify Mitch’s appetite. Mitch and Peter helped her set a small table and they sat down to eat. 

“So, Peter,” May began as she served herself some of the cheesy pasta, “when you answered the phone, you said you were actually on your way home. Do you not normally come straight home from whatever it is you do in the afternoons?”

“I had a...meeting with one of my classmates, about a science project,” said Peter. “And I ran into Mitch on the way over here, didn’t I?”

“Uh-huh,” Mitch nodded hastily. He stabbed a piece of sausage and a few noodles with his fork. 

“All right. What’s the project for?” asked May.

“It’s for Ms. Wentmore’s physics class. It’s the project with my friend Diego where we’re testing with weight and ropes--prehensile strength, remember?” Peter gave his aunt a little smile. 

“Oh, yes, that project,” said May. 

“We had a quiz in Geometry today. I aced that,” said Peter. He shoveled in a mouthful of ziti. I’m pretty excited to study Geometry this year, to be honest. In English we’re reading Shakespeare--As You Like It. And in Chemistry we’re studying molecules. We had a review quiz on the periodic table and I actually missed a couple of questions--I was distracted from trying to read ahead.”

May chuckled. “So, Mitch, where are you from?”

“California,” said Mitch.

“Oh, really, what part?”

“Orange County, by LA.”

“That’s close to Disneyland, right?” said May. Mitch nodded, his mouth full.

“Did you get to go to Disneyland a lot, growing up?” Peter asked him.

“A few times,” said Mitch. 

“Peter says you’re a college student right now,” said May. “Where are you studying at?” 

“Newel College,” Mitch blurted. He gave her a modified version of the recruiting schpeel. May nodded with interest. “I’m doing my generals right now. But next semester I hope to transfer to NYU to study Political Sciene.”

“Political science? That’s not exactly what Peter’s into. How did you two meet?”

Peter jumped in. “He’s a recruiter for Newel College. He was over visiting our school at lunch. We got to talking. I ran into him again on my way home.”

“Well, isn’t that neat?” said May. “Do you just study, or are you working, Mitch?”

“Being the recruiter is my job,” said Mitch. 

“Oh, I see. Do you visit a lot of the schools around here?”

“Yeah, I’ve been to a few of them.” Mitch dabbed some tomato sauce from his lip with a napkin and looked at Peter. “Only, I’ve just started working as a recruiter. Been doing it about a month now.”

“So, Aunt May,” Peter cut in, almost a moment too soon, “how was your work today?”

“It was fine,” said May, sounding bored. She worked at a dry cleaners’. She gave Peter and Mitch a couple of short anecdotes about the day’s customers and some unusual orders. After that, there was a long, awkward pause during which they finished eating. 

His plate clear, Mitch dropped his fork. “Well, Mrs. Parker, that was a very nice dinner. Thank you for inviting me.”

“My pleasure,” said May. “We don’t get a lot of company. I wish Peter had more friends, but the ones he does have he doesn’t bring over very often.” She shook her head at Peter and then rested her chin on her hands. “My shy boy. What are we going to do with you?”

“I’m just fine, Aunt May,” said Peter. He folded his arms. “I’m doing just fine. I’ve been working on going out and socializing. You don’t have to worry.”

“And your partner for the science project, do you two get along?”

“Gary? Yeah, we’re really tight, me and him. He’s just...busy after classes, too. So he doesn’t really have time to hang out.”

Mitch gave Peter a look. Hadn’t he said a few minutes ago that his lab partner was named Diego? But he wasn’t sure if Peter had caught his discrepancy. Or if Aunt May had.

Mitch looked up at May. “I can help you with the dishes,” he said.

“Yes, thank you,” said May. Mitch carried his and May’s plates over to the sink to rinse. Peter followed with his own plate.

“Say Peter,” May spoke up, “have you heard from Mr. Stark lately?”

Peter looked at her, trying not to let any anxiety show. “No I haven’t,” said Peter. “All he did was give me a scholarship, May.”

“Well, he seemed eager to keep in touch with you,” said May.

“He must...be a busy man,” said Peter, depositing his plate in the sink. May brought over the casserole dish. “Hm, no leftovers tonight--you’ve got a good appetite, Mitchell.”

Mitch smirked. “Hey, it was good food.” Clearing the table only took a couple of minutes. 

Peter offered to walk Mitch to the door. “It was good to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” He shook hands with May.

“You’re welcome to come back and see us any time,” said May.

“My pleasure. Take care.” Peter showed him out the door.

Peter had seemed tense for the whole meal, but once reaching the apartment hallway he relaxed. “This is the last time I ever let anyone who knows about Spider-man come over for dinner,” he said furtively. 

“I’m sorry, was I making things uncomfortable for you in there?”

“Well, no. It was her. She’s just trying to make conversation, but you have a cover you’re trying not to blow, and plus you’re trying to hide mine.”

Mitch sighed. “Maybe next time I’m in town I’ll take you guys out to dinner. Might not be anything more elaborate than Wendy’s.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Peter. “But don’t worry about Wendy’s, bro. There’s an Italian joint a few blocks from here, and it’s pretty inexpensive. They have heavenly breadsticks.”

“You don’t say.”

“Uh-huh.” Peter leaned closer to Mitch and added, “I recommended their take-out to Tony Stark once. He loved it.”

“If Iron Man likes it, I guess it’s pretty good,” said Mitch. 

They went down the stairs to the apartment building.

“I gotta admit, though,” said Peter, “I’m really tired of getting visitors who just want to meet me because I’m Spider-man.”

“It’s just been me and Stark, right?”

“Right. But I’d rather not get anyone else.”

“I hope so, too.” Mitch could see another reason that Peter was so protective of his identity.

“So, Mitch, you were following a lead for your ‘other’ case when you saw me and Stark earlier?”

“Oh, yeah, that,” said Mitch. “Guess I’ve got to head back to my hotel to work on that. I never caught up with the suspect I was chasing.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” They exited the building and stopped on the sidewalk.

“You know I can help you out, right?”

Mitch gave him a look. 

“I’m being serious. Fighting crime is what I do. I can help you take these guys out.”

“I thought Stark told you earlier to stay out of the big cases?”

“He did not!”

“Well, that’s what he was implying.” He looked down sternly at Peter.

“But it’s not like this is a high-profile case, right? You’re not on the news or anything?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t I help you?”

Mitch sympathized with Peter. “You know about the Accords, right?”

“A little.”

“Well, according to the Accords, SHIELD is no longer allowed to work openly with superheroes. So what we did back in the day with Iron Man and Cap, and Black Widow? That’s no longer an option. If I was to accept your help, I’d be breaking the law. And that would be more incentive for law enforcement to come after you--not to mention I’d be in trouble, too. Besides, I told you how things are with Stark and SHIELD these days. He wouldn’t like it.”

“We could keep it a secret.”

“That might not work,” said Mitch. “No matter how many precautions we take.”

“Look, Stark has told me to be on the lookout for SHIELD. But I don’t see the problem. Besides, wouldn’t you rather let me work with you, so I can prove that working with superheroes DOESN’T have to be a bad thing?”

The way Peter said it, it was a convincing argument, but a stretch for the likes of Coulson or Ross to buy. “I don’t know.”

“Come on! Just this once! If your boss wants to build some new bridges with Tony Stark, then why not take this chance? Let me help you!”  
Mitch felt torn. He knew that Peter was right. And he knew, considering his own involvement with secret superhero affairs, that it would be hypocritical to turn him down.  
But do you know what Ross does to superheroes he doesn’t like? Mitch wanted to warn him.

Mitch put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter, look. I understand your desire to help. But I also know that you value your own safety, and the safety of the people you care about. I don’t want you to get in over your head.”

“I thought you were more worried about that happening to Stark?”

“I’m worried for the both of you. Coulson is.” Since when was this personal? “I’m sorry. I’d love to have you help me out. But I really can’t let you.”  
Peter looked dejected. “Why not?”

“Because...when you’re a responsible adult, at some point you have to say no.” 

Peter began to scowl at Mitch. “Why does everyone just want to tell me no?”

Mitch smiled. “Peter, I’m your friend, okay? I hope you believe that. I want you to...not get hurt. But I’ll see you around, okay?” Mitch started to step away from Peter. He waved goodbye.

“Okay,” he heard Peter answer. “See ya.”

That wasn’t exactly the best note for saying farewell on. Mitch had tried to express to Peter that he didn’t want to hurt his feelings--that saying Spider-man couldn’t help SHIELD wasn’t a personal insult to Peter Parker. He was tempted to accept Peter’s help, he really was. He had no idea what he was up against in the Cartel case, and having a superhero friend with spider-like agility would make things easier, if things became...rough. But Mitch would slug through it on his own. He’d done it before, and he would do it again.  
But the notion that stayed with Mitch was that Peter didn’t seem like the type of kid to take no for an answer.

 

And Mitch proved to be correct. Peter got up at four in the morning, donned the suit, and went out on the town to see if he could get a head start on Mitch’s case. 

It would have been smart to ask him for details about who he’s looking for, Peter thought to himself as he perched on the roof of the office building where he had met Stark the previous day. The office building was the only thing he had to go on: Mitch had been looking for someone here. It was now almost five. Peter was feeling a little drowsy, but he jerked himself awake and continued to watch the block for suspicious activity. But he saw no one in the vicinity.

Needing to wake himself up more, he ran across the roof of the building, spun a web to the roof of the building behind it, and jumped. He played around the roof of the neighboring building, swinging off and on it and doing backflips on the air conditioners. Tony Stark encouraged this sort of play. I can’t tell you everything about how the suit works or what it can do. And you know your own abilities better than anyone. So, yeah, you can go ahead and test it out. Learn to work with it. Peter liked the suit, it was colorful and flashy and made him look awesome. Ever since the airport battle in Leipzig, he had worn it around New York when he’d gone out to fight bad guys and save the day. The Spider-man had just been an odd urban legend before then. Now the people at school spoke of him with respect and awe. And the odd technical trinkets that Stark included were nice. 

But Peter didn’t really need the suit. 

He returned to the first office building and resumed sitting on his perch. He surveyed every nook and cranny of the buildings and streets and alleys that he could see. Nothing unusual was happening. A few cars drove by now and then, but this district got kind of quiet at night, compared to the rest of town.  
Then one car, an ordinary-looking one, pulled up to the curb just outside of the parking lot. The engine switched off. But the driver did not emerge. They just sat inside and waited.

And so Spider-man waited. 

Another ten minutes or so passed. He saw a lone pedestrian emerging from around the corner of one of the buildings across the street. And she was wearing a fur coat. Even at this time of year the nights weren’t that chilly. 

The woman in the fur coat crossed the street and then walked along the sidewalk until she reached the car. The driver finally emerged: another woman with short hair, and wearing dark clothing. He watched the women talking together for about twenty minutes. Judging by their body language he could tell they weren’t exactly getting along. The fur coat lady was smoking a cigarette at one point, and she waved it around in one hand to emphasize her gestures. 

Eventually, however, the conversation wound down, and the two women seemed to reach a sort of agreement. The fur coat lady walked away, but before she had gone more than a few steps the other woman called out to her to ask her something. The reply was brief, and the fur coat lady clutched her collar and walked away the way she had come. The second woman got back into her car and drove away.

He wanted to follow the short-haired woman, but on a whim decided to go after the fur coat woman instead. He jumped down from the building into the shadows behind it, and then braving the streetlights he dashed across the road, then flung a web onto the opposite stoplight and then the nearest building. He stayed on the rooftops. The woman took a leisurely pace down the street to the nearest subway station. Peter went down into the subway after her, climbing on the ceiling of the stairway and then dropping behind a bench. The woman was standing at the edge of the curb, waiting for the next train. It came, and the woman boarded. Peter made a sprint to the car behind the woman’s, which had only three sleeping people inside, and he hid himself under a bench in the back of the car. Through the windows, he could see the woman in the next car, slumped drowsily onto a bench, her head leaning against the window as she played with a cell phone. On the bench above him an old man was sleeping, his glasses sliding off his large nose. Peter could hear him snoring. On the other side of the car, a little girl was dozing next to her mother, but woke suddenly when the train hit a bump. The little girl blinked and then saw Spider-man crouched under the bench. Peter put a finger up to his mouth for silence. The child grinned. 

The subway train pulled into the next station. Peter saw the woman in the fur coat walk out of the car in front of him. He also heard an alarm going off above him, an alarm probably carried by the old man dozing above his hiding place. 

Peter climbed out from under his bench. “‘Scuse me, mister?” he asked the man. He cast an anxious glance over his shoulder and saw the woman in the fur coat heading out of the station. The old man didn’t respond. Peter poked his shoulder. The old man gave a start and a yawn.

“Hey, mister, we’re at Weitz Station. Is this your stop? I heard your alarm go off.”

The old man seemed to register that there was someone standing in front of him, but was not aware that it was Spider-man. “Huh? We’re here?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, sonny,” said the man, slowly getting to his feet. He noticed Spider-man loitering at his elbow. “Don’t worry about me, I can get myself up.”

Peter bolted out the subway train door. He jumped onto the ceiling and climbed upside-down back to the street level. The lady in the fur coat was already across the street. Peter swung himself onto the nearest building, vaulting himself on the street lights, and climbed along a third-storey balcony that paralleled the street below. The woman turned the corner, and the balcony ended. Peter climbed to the roof and then jumped across the street. She went another two blocks after the turn, unaware that she was being followed. She then entered a bar on a narrow back street, the name El Limon flashing in garish neon above the windows with a bright yellow lemon for the O, the leaf serving as the accent mark.  
Peter climbed to the roof of the building and then hung himself upside-down over the windows of the bar. He saw the woman confer with a bartender, and then she went through a door in the back of the room. Peter started swinging around the side of the building, peering into windows. Most of them were dark or had the blinds pulled over them. But there was one window on the sixth floor that was lit. Peter crawled up the side to the lit window, keeping himself out of sight. The window was part way open to let some of the chilly morning air through the screen, and he could hear a radio blasting rap music. There were two people inside of it, both middle-aged. The man was dressed and getting ready for the day. The woman was wearing a quilted housecoat. 

The woman in the fur coat entered--and she was still wearing her coat. Peter was shocked that she still had it on. She greeted the room’s tenants in rapid Spanish, but then the second woman spoke up in English.

“So what did she say, Bernadette?” she asked.

“Marcson says she understands our difficulty,” said the woman in the fur coat, shedding it at last to reveal a tight outfit. “She can give us the package for just thirty thousand instead of fifty.”

The second woman gave a sigh of relief. 

“I can come up with another five thousand easily,” said the man. “We should be good to go.”

“That’s all you needed, right, Rod?” asked Bernadette.

“Yeah. Did you forget?”

Bernadette laughed and made a comment in Spanish. There was some banter back and forth for a minute. Switching back to English, Bernadette said, “You know, we might not even have to go through Hugo to get the dough. I might be able to coax a little extra from Javier.”

“What do you mean?” said the other woman. Bernadette replied in Spanish. 

“I can see where you’d get that idea,” said Rod. 

“Maybe if you could part with that ridiculous fur coat of yours,” said the woman.

Bernadette snorted. “Not happening.” She yawned. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Good for you,” said Rod. 

“Goodnight,” said the second woman. Bernadette picked up her coat and left the room.

That didn’t sound like such a bad idea to Peter either. It was just after six in the morning. But depending on how fast he went, he wouldn’t be able to get more than a few more minutes of sleep once he got back to the apartment. He’d nod off in class like one of those poor Mormon kids…

He sprang into action, flying between buildings on his silken ropes. Saint Vincent’s wasn’t too far out of his way home. Soon enough, the Catholic school and church appeared on one of the city blocks. Inside of the community center behind it there was a light on the second floor. 

Peter jumped on top of the community center, directly above the lighted window. And then he somersaulted upside-down from the edge of the roof, anchoring himself with a web on the rain gutter. He stopped himself and then released his web slowly, descending headfirst in full view of the window. 

The lit room was set up like a classroom, with long tables serving as desks and nodding heads at every one of them. One or two at the back had their heads folded into their arms, not even pretending to stay awake. The teacher was busy writing something on the board. Peter wasn’t sure she even noticed. Some of the kids there wore the green and black uniform of Saint Vincent’s, the rest were in casual clothing.

And there in one of the middle desks, across the room from the window, sat blond-haired Whitney Davis, resting her head on one of her arms and trying not to topple over.

Peter released a small web and yanked open the window. He felt the cool air rushing into the crack.

“Good morning!” he said loudly.

Some of the students stirred sleepily at first. Then one of the other girls shrieked and the boys all stood up. The teacher had dropped her chalk. 

“They told me this was a seminary, not a cemetery!” Spider-man told them.

Whitney Davis was sitting up straight in her chair now, blinking her eyes rapidly. But she froze when she heard the voice coming from under the mask.

“Do I...know you?” he heard her asking.

“Probably not,” Spider-man said to her. “It’s kind of early to tell, isn’t it?”

“Thank you very much for the wake-up call, Mr. Spider,” said the teacher, walking up to the window. “But you are being very disruptive. Unless you want to sit quietly and participate in the lesson, please do not interrupt again.” 

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said Spider-man. “I thought you could use the help. See you later, guys!” he called to the class. He zipped back up his web to the top of the roof, pleased with himself. Even the kids who had been a hundred percent asleep when he’d “dropped” by were at least awake when he left. 

After his caper, Peter headed for home. But seeing Whitney had reminded him of when he’d met “Mike” a day earlier. He needed to get a hold of Mitch and tell him what he’d found. He had no business going back to bed. At least not yet.

If Mitch had been serious about being willing to help Peter out, he would have given him a phone number or something. But then again, it probably also meant that Mitch was serious about keeping his and SHIELD’s distance.

He jumped onto the gable of a roof not far from Saint Vincent’s. He had no clue how to get a hold of Mitch. He guessed that Mitch was staying in a hotel nearby...but there were plenty of hotels to choose from. Or if Mitch was really that deep undercover, he might not even be in a hotel. It was one of those times when he wished that he knew more about secret agent stuff, except instead of trying to lose a spy tailing him he needed to find one. Was this all part of a plot to get his guard down? 

Peter’s gut feeling yesterday had been that Mitch was sincere in wanting to be Peter’s friend. 

And what Peter really needed was a friend who REALLY saw under the mask. Not Tony Stark. Not Aunt May. 

He looked up and around the nearby rooftops, looking for some kind of a sign. 

A large bird flapped and furled its wings as it landed on a neighboring building. It stopped to preen. Peter noticed the bird’s plumage: it was white, though he could make out a lot of mottled dark spots. There was only one species of owl with feathers like that, every kid knew that….

Peter webbed to the roof of the next building and jumped the gap. He made a dramatic, crouching landing on the flat roof space in front of the bird.

The owl looked up at him, startled.

A normal bird would have flown away. But this owl puffed up her feathers a little and continued watching him. She was threatened, but she held her ground.

“You’re cool,” said Spider-man. “Are you from around here? Of course not.”

The owl chirped at him and looked at him sideways, suspicious. 

He approached her slowly, not breaking eye contact with her. He wanted to see if she would let him pet her--was it really a she? He’d read somewhere that female snowy owls had more black on their plumage. She continued to glare at him and hopped onto a ledge behind her.

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you,” said Peter. He would really not have any time to sleep before school this morning, if he just wanted to pet the owl. That could take all morning. He stood up slowly. The owl relaxed, cocking her head at him with interest. Peter mirrored her head movement. He couldn’t help laughing. Did birds normally do that?

There was something around the bird’s left foot, making the feathers there stick out. Was it a tag or a tracking device? 

“Can I see that?” Peter asked, pointing. He moved in closer, reaching to touch. It was bigger than an average wildlife tag ring. In fact it almost looked like...was that a piece of paper wrapped around her leg?

Aunt May had been listening to an audio-book about this kind of an owl recently.

“Are you a messenger owl?” Spider-man asked her, “like from the Harry Potter books?” he was being partly rhetorical. 

The owl leaned away from his reach, but when he started speaking, she looked back at him, listening. Then she nodded her head, twice.

“You--you can understand me?” he said, bewildered.

Another nod. 

“Are you an actual messenger owl, like Hedwig?”

She nodded.

“ARE you Hedwig?” 

She nodded again. 

“What? That’s--whoa.” There was something really weird going on here. Peter had read all of the Potter books. He’d seen the movies. But here was the most famous owl in the world, sitting in front of him. And she could understand him.

“Wizards? Do you carry letters for wizards? Here in New York?”

Hedwig shook her head no this time. 

But she was carrying messages for someone. 

What if…

He asked her another question, “Do you know Mitchell Sorensen? The SHIELD agent?”

Hedwig nodded. 

It was a miracle. “Can you carry a message to him from me?”

A nod.

“Okay...wait right here, I need to find a piece of paper, and a pencil.” He didn’t know if she would wait. He didn’t know where he was going to find a writing utensil or a notepad on such short notice. He didn’t know that she was even real, that she wouldn’t disappear as soon as he jumped off the roof.

He turned around and saluted the owl. “I’ll be back.”

He jumped from the roof, extending a thread of silk to the next building and swinging.

Down on the street below him there was a diner. He saw a waitress stepping outside to arrange the outdoor chairs and tables. He landed in front of her.

“Excuse me miss,” he said. She shrieked and jumped backward.

“I need to borrow your pen for a moment. And a sheet of paper.”

“Yes, yes, you can have that,” she said, shaking. She pulled the notepad from out of her pocket. Peter took her pen and scribbled a note, then tore off the top sheet of paper.

“Thank you,” he said, returning the implements to the waitress.

“You’re welcome,” she answered.

“Have a nice day.” He shot out a web to a ledge on a building across the street and began to climb back up to the roof where he had left Hedwig.

She was right where he’d left her.

“You waited!” he exclaimed with relief. He dashed across the roof to her side. “Do you know how to find Mitch Sorensen? I need you to take this to him for me. Please.”  
Peter folded the piece of paper in half. He held it up to Hedwig. She took it in her beak. 

“Thank you,” he said, sighing with relief. “Thank you so much.” Hedwig launched herself from the roof. Peter watched her for a moment. She didn’t seem to be heading in any particular direction. Well, it wasn’t like he was intending to follow her. He ran the other direction off the roof and started to swing his way back home.

 

Hedwig had not returned when Mitch made it back to his hotel room that night. He spent a quiet evening filling out a report on his failed stakeout, disrupted due to losing track of the witness, and watched television.

He set multiple alarms on his personal cell phone to wake up to, but after the first three he realized that he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. Luckily there was another alarm set to go off in about ten minutes.

Then he heard the tapping sound. It took him a second or two of listening to realize that it was not from the door but, in fact, the window. 

He climbed slowly out of bed as the tapping grew more impatient. He pulled up his blinds to see Hedwig clutching a note in her beak and looking anxious. Mitch moved the glass as quickly as he could to let her in and then covered it again.

“Good grief, where have you been?” Mitch asked her.

Hedwig leaned forward to hand him the note. It was written on a thin waiter’s form from an unknown restaurant.

Meet me when school gets out. The barber shop across the street.

Mitch realized that it might have been smarter to give Peter Parker his phone number in any event. 

“Got anything else, Hedwig?”

Hedwig held out her leg to him. Mitch untied the piece of paper rolled there. Hedwig then flew across the room to the spot where Mitch kept her water and newspapers, and she started to squawk at him loudly for not having any water in her dish to drink from.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” said Mitch, looking up from Coulson’s letter. He drew some more drinking water for Hedwig. Hedwig drank her fill as Mitch read the letter, and then she hopped onto one of the chairs, tucked her head under her wing, and fell asleep.

Mitch,

I just read your report on your so-called stakeout. I find it strange that you abruptly called it off after running into your old friend. I heard from another source that Stark went to visit one of the offices in that same building. There would have been no reason for him to do that--he’s not even the official CEO of Stark Industries anymore. I suspect that he had some business there related to Spider-man. Please tell me you saw something. 

No word on Ross’s efforts to track down Spider-man. However, there was a string of police raids in Baltimore of federal police looking for superhumans on the run. Ross is serious about enforcing the Accords. Elusive as he is, we may not have time to find Spider-man before Ross does. I don’t know if Stark can hold Ross at bay to protect him. Ross doesn’t seem to care about who he hurts or how old they are. I worry for our friends in Operation Snowbird.

Coulson

The reminder of the urgency of the situation was timely, but unsettling. Mitch went downstairs to the hotel dining room for breakfast. And then he went back up to write his reply. 

Dear Boss,

I went to the school yesterday at lunch as planned. It ended up working a lot better than expected. I met the Spider-man’s alter ego. He was one of a group of kids I sat down and talked to for a few minutes. I didn’t know it was him until later, though. 

It was right after I saw our suspect leave the building and I was unable to follow her that I saw the kid walk into the building for a meeting with Tony Stark. Stark is definitely his patron. But he’s a little over-protective. Spider-man is tugging at the leash. I ran into him after I left the building. I ended up having dinner with him. 

His name is Peter Parker. He’s a stubborn kid who lives with his single aunt. He’s bugging me to help me with the cartel case (I probably meant “begging” but “bugging” works just fine). We both know that allowing him to do so would not be appropriate. And it may be just as well if it comes to a firefight, since our local SHIELD team can probably handle it. But I really want to let him. Not just as a favor to him. I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to need the help. These guys are armed and dangerous--you are well aware of that from our official report. I promise I will pursue all legal avenues of this case before enlisting help from our potential ally. And don’t worry, I’ll let you call Code Marauder first. 

Mitch

Mitch hated to wake up Hedwig from her nap, but she grudgingly allowed him to tie his reply to Coulson to her leg, and he let her out the window again. He decided to head out to the office building again, and he stopped at a hole-in-the-wall deli for an early lunch on the way over. 

At the office building, he placed himself on a bench on the sidewalk and kept his sunglasses over his eyes. 

Around one-forty in the afternoon, he saw Terri Marcson leaving the office building. At the same time, he saw Bernadette walking across the street. She had traded her usual fur coat for a knee-length, tight leather jacket. Was that REAL leather?

Mitch casually rose from his bench and headed up the sidewalk towards Terri and Bernadette. The two women saw each other. Terri motioned for Bernadette to come over to a streetlamp. Mitch stopped behind the next streetlamp and turned his ear microphone all the way up. The background noise was almost deafening at first, but after a few seconds he could pick up on the women’s conversation. 

“--come up with another five thousand dollars in a jiffy. We’ll have the money ready for you in a few days.”

“A few days, like when?” asked Terri impatiently. 

“Er, I’d have to double-check, but probably around next Tuesday.”

“Are you sure you couldn’t persuade your guys to get it sooner?”

“I’d have to talk to Emiliano about that. This sort of business isn’t easy to conduct.”

“I know what you mean,” Terri replied, her voice low and cool. “Your requested products are a lot of work for our backer to ship over. Our methods are unsanitary enough.  
Shipments like these...are matters of life and death, if you know what I mean.”

Bernadette grinned. “Yeah, it’s a tough business. Where are you shipping from?”

“East Europe. Zagreb.”

“So how long would it take?” Bernadette folded her arms.

“If all goes well, three weeks.” Terri added, “if you were able to pay the full price and then some, we could expedite.”

“We can wait,” said Bernadette. 

“My organization is willing to take a twenty-percent payment up front. It needs to be in cash.”

“Twenty percent up front?”

“Yes. And the rest on delivery.”

“We can do that,” said Bernadette. “I can get it to you by Saturday night.”

“Let’s do it tomorrow night,” said Terri. 

“Might be a bit too soon. But I’ll see what I can do. Do you want your collateral right now?”

“Yes. I would like that.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Bernadette dug in her purse. Mitch’s earphone picked up on the rustling of papers and trash and he couldn’t hear what she was saying. But watching her closely, he saw Bernadette give Terri a large plastic bag. He heard Bernadette describe it as the best something from Cuba. Terri opened the bag to examine the contents. There were several smaller packages inside, filled with dark material. 

“Is this how you normally package them?”

“For transport to the mainland, yes,” said Bernadette. “We smuggle it in with sanitary wipes from Honduras. What was it you needed these for, a medicinal study?”

Terri nodded. “Yes. I’ll be sure to pass them along.”

“So tomorrow night, then?”

“Yes. Your full twenty-five percent. Come back tomorrow morning and I’ll have the delivery place for you.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Bernadette. She turned to leave the way she had come. Terri headed back into the office building.

Looking as casual as possible, Mitch trailed after Bernadette. He followed her across the street before catching up with her. 

Walking next to her, he adopted a thick New York accent. “Excuse me, lady, you got more of whatever it was you were trading with your friend back there?”

Bernadette stopped. If she was startled by Mitch’s approach, she didn’t show it. It was the first time she had truly seen him, even though he’d been sort of following her for days. And clearly she didn’t recognize him. 

“”I wouldn’t say she was my friend, mister,” Bernadette said. “More of a business associate.”

“Uh-huh? And what business are you two in?”

“Essential oils. Everybody uses ‘em these days.”

“Right.” Mitch nodded. Drugs, obviously. “Where do you get ‘essential oils’ in New York, I wonder?” 

“At a warehouse. A dealer,” said Bernadette. “Someone who’s in the business. Are you in it?” 

Mitch sniffed and tucked his hands in his pockets. “More or less. But people aren’t really buying what I have to sell these days. Perhaps your product is better. You got some more of that to share?”

Bernadette looked Mitch up and down. No way she would have taken him for a fellow drug dealer. But she didn’t say anything.

“Not with me. But I could bring you some, if you wanted to wait.” 

“How much?”

“How much can you give me, sonny? I’m a couple thousand dollars short on change right now.”

“I don’t have that kind of money,” Mitch answered her casually. 

“Then why would you want to buy what we’re selling her? You don’t seem like the type.”

So she was on to him. Mitch smiled more broadly and said, “I figured you were the generous. I guess I was wrong.”

“Oh, I am generous, sonny,” said Bernadette. “But I am not cheap. I’ll see you around.”  
“Later,” said Mitch. He turned on his heel and walked away. 

He had a lot to think about, as he reviewed Bernadette and Terri’s conversation that afternoon. The lawn in front of Peter Parker’s high school seemed like a quiet enough place to think, at least in the few remaining minutes before the bell that rang for the end of the school day.

The bell finally did ring. The first initial wave of students passed out of the front doors like a tidal wave. Not far behind this crowd was the blonde girl that Peter had pointed out yesterday at lunch--Whitney. It took Mitch a moment to remember her name. She was talking to the girl next to her. He heard, or thought he heard, Whitney mention Spider-man.  
Mitch felt it wouldn’t hurt to eavesdrop, and he switched on his ear mic.

“...didn’t see him until he was right there, like, he called out ‘Good morning’ to get everyone’s attention. We all jumped like there was a real spider in the room or something.”

“So he woke you up, huh?” said Whitney’s friend.

“Like a shot of mountain dew.”

They had almost passed out of the range of Mitch’s mic, so he paid attention. “You should still come to Seminary, though. Not just because Spider-man might drop in.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” said her friend. Mitch could no longer hear them. He switched off his mic. 

Spider-man had crashed the early-morning Seminary class? He couldn’t believe his ears. What would he--what would anyone--be doing up and fighting crime at such a ghastly hour? 

He was about to leave his post next to the school when he heard someone step up behind him, and then he was shoved roughly in the back.

“BOO!”

Mitch yelled and turned around, catching himself before he fell. Peter Parker was standing behind him, his hair combed and freckles practically jumping off his nose. 

“I thought I told you to wait at the barber shop!” said Peter. 

“Sorry,” said Mitch. “I was just hanging around here to see what was going on. What are--how did you get here?” 

“There’s a back door,” said Peter. 

“You wanna talk here, then?”

“We might as well.” Peter stuffed his hands into his front hoodie pocket. 

“So what do you need to talk about?”

Peter swallowed. “So I did a little investigating on my own this morning.” He waited for Mitch to yell at him. 

“Go on,” said Mitch.

“I got up at four,” Peter continued with a yawn. “I went to the office building to see if I could find something. I watched for a little while--I found your suspect. She was having a secret meeting at five.”

“Who was she meeting with?”

“Some trashy lady in a fur coat. I couldn’t hear them, but they were up to something sketchy. I followed the fur coat to this apartment building--there’s a bar on the ground floor called the Limon. She went upstairs to report something to two of her friends. She said that the lady she was meeting with would be willing to give them some ‘package’ for just thirty thousand dollars.”

“What kind of package?”

“They didn’t say. Must be some sort of code.”

“I get that,” said Mitch. “I was hanging out down there earlier this afternoon. My suspect had another meeting with this same person. The fur coat lady--her name is Bernadette Longoria. Longoria is buying something from the Free Range Party. That has to be what the ‘package’ refers to.”

“Who does the lady work for?” 

“The San Ignacio Brotherhood--the same organization that sponsored the burglary that you dropped in on the other day.”

“So the robbery--that’s connected?”

“Yes. Apparently they’re using the pawn shop to get cash for their purchase. The robbery was to make sure that the broker was paying up.”

Peter cussed. “So what are they buying?”

“I don’t know. But knowing the Free Range Party, it’s something illegal. Something they’d have a lot of difficulty to smuggle in. SHIELD believes San Ignacio is after weapons.” Mitch decided to take the time to reproach Peter. “You know it’s illegal to interfere with some other organization’s investigation without permission--that violates several state and federal laws.”

Peter shrugged. “I didn’t know it was illegal. I’m just trying to help out. Is it against the law to be trying to help someone?”

“Not if there’s a risk of threatening public safety. Why do you think--” he lowered his voice, “why do you think all this crap has been happening to superheroes in the last few years?”

“Do you think people would be so worried if we could actually do our job the way it needed to be done?” said Peter, scowling a little. 

“That’s the kind of logic that got Captain America in trouble.”

“What would you know about it?”

“More than I’m allowed to tell you. I appreciate the tip, kid, really. What was the address of this place?”

“It’s called El Limon. 1175 Antwerp Street. Kind of an out-of-the-way neighborhood.”

Mitch pulled out his phone and typed the information. “Finally, something to go off of.”

“Well, I’ve been of use to you, haven’t I?” said Peter. “Do you need my help taking in these guys?”

“Probably. You don’t do me much good as a witness. The police and the other SHIELD ops say you’re a lunatic in a clown costume.”

Peter was furious. “It is NOT a clown costume! There’s a difference--”

“I’m just quoting them, don’t shoot the messenger, sheesh.”

“Well, you shouldn’t directly quote people who say stuff like that.”

“Kid, you’re doing just fine catching everyday burglars and saving lives. You’re doing wonderful work.” Mitch put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “But this--I could be in huge trouble if anything went wrong and you got hurt on my watch. I could be in trouble just for saying you helped me. I’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting you.”

“I can protect myself,” said Peter. “When are you gonna get it? You know, I don’t need a police badge to do any of the stuff that I do. I was doing this on my own before Tony Stark ever found me and took me to fight his friends at the airport.” 

“We’re aware of that,” said Mitch. “I’m aware of that. I was watching you on YouTube months before...all of that happened.”

“Then you should know that my powers are more than capable of keeping me from getting hurt, much less not taking the bad guy.”

“Quite the contrary: you were kind of sloppy your first few months of crime-fighting, remember? You ran into buildings more than you jumped from them.”

“Oh.” Peter looked down, blushing at the memory.

“But I’ll keep in touch with you, kid.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a kid.”

“Just be safe, please.”

Mitch turned away, leaving Peter gaping after him. Mitch was glowering internally: he knew he was making excuses. He wanted more than anything just to skip all the paperwork and go right after the San Ignacio and the FRP and get Spider-man to wrap up every single one of them in his webs so he could turn them over. His responsibility to protect Peter felt more like a burden. But he didn’t want to take any risks. It was a tall order to keep Peter from getting into trouble with local law enforcement. Or SHIELD. Or Secretary Ross.  
Or from getting himself and SHIELD on Tony Stark’s bad side.

 

Mitch went back to his hotel room. First thing he did, he called Coulson. He told Coulson what he had found out about the FRP colluding with San Ignacio. 

“And a ‘friend’ of ours gave me an address--a bar in South Queens called El Limon. There’s apartments above it. The San Ignacio’s go-between lives there.”

“I won’t bother guessing which ‘friend’ you are referring to,” said Coulson. “I’ll call up the local chief of police, see if I can get an arrest warrant.” 

“What about our team? Isn’t this their jurisdiction?”

“I don’t need SHIELD getting caught up with this,” said Coulson nervously. “The Free Range Party will do anything to sue us in court--and if they cry foul, the feds will shut us down.”

“I understand, boss.”

“Wait for me to call you. In the meantime, write up your report for today, get it as detailed as possible. There can be no doubt of what we are doing here.” 

“Right, sir. And do I await any further instructions?”

“Not at the moment. If there’s a change, you will be posted.”

“Yes, sir.” That meant that Hedwig would be staying down in D.C. for the time being. Mitch would rather miss her company. But he went ahead and put away her food and water dishes and her towels and newspapers. And then he got to work. 

Right before he went to bed, he got a call from Coulson: the arrest warrant for Bernadette Longoria would be ready first thing in the morning.

Mitch went to the police station the next morning and went with two police cars to the El Limon cafe. It being morning, there were only a handful of patrons at the bar when they arrived. The landlady insisted that she had never heard of Bernadette, or seen anyone fitting her description. And then a lady in a business suit walked into the bar. She was wearing thick makeup and had her hair done in large ringlets.

“Excuse me, Rita, I’ll handle this,” said the woman, pulling off her sunglasses. “Officers, stand down. That warrant should never have been issued.”

“Excuse me, but who are you?” asked Mitch. 

“I’m the neighborhood defense attorney. I received word just this morning that you were coming here to wrongfully arrest someone.” 

One of the police officers who had come with Mitch stepped up to the attorney and began to argue with her. 

Mitch glanced around the room. The two guys at the bar had resumed consuming their drinks. The guy sitting at the back table was watching the situation nervously. 

When Mitch had arrived, the doorway to the apartments above the bar, marked with a large sign reading ‘PRIVATE’ had been empty. But in the commotion caused by the attorney, two people had appeared in the doorway, a Hispanic couple. The woman was wearing a housecoat. They looked at each other, and the woman went upstairs. 

“I should think that responsible police officers had no business just barging into places to arrest people--the news makes you look bad enough, doesn’t it? You people have no reason to be here,” said the lawyer. “There is no such person as Bernadette Longoria at this address--isn’t that right, Rita?” The landlady nodded. “There is no one here that has been convicted of any crime. There is no evidence that wrong has been done. Who ordered this arrest?”

“It was the director of SHIELD, ma’am,” said one of the cops meekly.

“Is there anyone here on behalf of SHIELD?”

“Me,” said Mitch, flashing his badge. 

The attorney turned on him. She was wearing five-inch heels and she stared down at Mitch with murder in her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re just looking for people to take to jail, aren’t you?”

“That’s hardly the case, ma’am,” said Mitch. “There is substantial evidence that a resident here is working for the San Ignacio cartel.”

“The San Ignacio cartel is in Cuba, young man.”

“The San Ignacio cartel is colluding with a domestic terrorist organization.”

“But not the people here. The people in the upstairs apartments are guiltless of any crime. You’re just targeting them because it’s a poor neighborhood.”

She really wanted to bring politics into this? “That is absurd, ma’am! We are here to arrest criminals, there are drug charges--”

“Criminals whose activities do not fall under your jurisdiction. Let me see the warrant.”

Mitch handed her the arrest warrant. The diva attorney looked it over. “It says here that you came here on information given by an anonymous tip. Who was it?”

It wouldn’t hurt to tell the truth. “Spider-man.”

One of the guys at the bar spat his drink. The policemen looked at each other in disbelief.

The attorney’s face was void of emotion, but Mitch could see the seething ridicule in her eyes. “This is the part where I stop taking you seriously,” she said quietly. “The flying ‘clown hobo’, the new hero of New York City, the legendary Spider-man. And SHIELD authorized you to do this? To come arrest innocent people? On HIS information?”  
“It was information pertinent to our case, he was trying to--”

“Ridiculous. I thought SHIELD could sink no further. I could report you to the UN Security Council, get you indicted for an alliance clearly outlawed by the Sokovia Accords.”

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

“Spider-man is not as invincible or flawless a hero as people think he is. Even if SHIELD were watching his case, they would know that. He could be misleading you--or he has the wrong building. Your suspects have caused no incidents that pose a threat to this community.”

“But they’re going to,” said Mitch. “And the man that held up Xavier’s pawn shop the other day was part of San Ignacio.”

“Vance currently denies all of those accusations and you know it.”

“No, you’re the one denying it,” said Mitch hotly. 

“I’m defending a client.”

“Who else are you defending? You know what these guys are capable of doing. And here it’s ten in the morning and you expect us to believe it’s midnight?”

“What are they after, then, that’s so important to you that you would pre-empt whatever havoc you think they would cause in our community?”

“I don’t know, okay. I’m being honest with you. I’m trying to find out what they ARE doing--”

“You see!” said the lawyer shrilly. “You think that’s sufficient evidence to put people behind bars. It was that same kind of thinking, just a few months ago, that caused Captain America to betray the Avengers. You of all people should know that.”

“What would you know about it?” Mitch growled, suppressing the urge to yell. 

“Everything.”

“Look, that has nothing to do with this!” Mitch protested. “There IS an international drug cartel in this building. Would you expect them to rent out Stephen Strange’s old penthouse or something?”

“I would expect that SHIELD had better things to do with their time than making up stories about terrorists and drug cartels mixing with ordinary citizens.”

“Can I see your credentials, ma’am?”

“Of course.” As the woman dug through her purse, Mitch glanced behind him at the apartment entrance. The woman in the housecoat had returned and was watching them. It was all Mitch could do to keep from bursting out screaming because this diva told him he wasn’t allowed to ask people a few simple questions. Her papers checked out. 

“So you see, Agent Sorensen,” said the lawyer, “you shouldn’t be at this bar, to arrest people living upstairs. You shouldn’t be in this neighborhood. If there was an actual threat, you would have every right to be here. But as there is not, you should be on your way. I’m just doing my job, protecting the people in this neighborhood from injustice. The law is on the side of the people. Not the law enforcement.”

Mitch could see that there was no way of winning this argument. “As it should be,” he said, nodding. He told the officers to do as the attorney suggested. They left the bar to head back to the police station. 

His last burning thought before leaving the bar was that law enforcement and potential victims were people, too.

Mitch went back to his hotel, dejected. Coulson sounded optimistic when he picked up the receiver, expecting to hear that they’d made the arrests. Mitch had no trouble visualizing Coulson rubbing his eyes and forehead with frustration. 

“I’m sorry boss, our hands are tied.”

“I’ll get the legal team to look into it, but for right now, yes, they are.” He could hear the deflation in Coulson’s voice.

“And how long will that take?” asked Mitch. “The Free Range Party will be collecting payment as early as tomorrow night. Which means whatever they’re shipping will arrive in just a few weeks. The legal analysis could take--”

“Longer than that,” Coulson finished for him. “I know exactly what’s at stake here.”

“What are we going to do, boss?”

“Well, one thing is for sure, we are not going to just sit here and wring our hands, now are we?”

“No, sir.”

There was a pause that lasted several seconds on Coulson’s end of the phone. And then he said, “I will be sending you further instructions.”

“On what?”

“Stopping the FRP. It’s good weather for flying today, between here and New York.”

Mitch could easily guess what that meant. “I will await your instructions, then,” said Mitch. It could take up to several hours for Hedwig and whatever message Coulson was sending to get to him. “What do I do in the meantime?”

“Whatever you can to close this case. Find the hard evidence. And be ready. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later.”

Coulson was the first to hang up. Mitch wasn’t sure if he was reassured by news of an oncoming secret message. It irked his conscience to have to go around the law on this. But if he wanted to stop the FRP and the San Ignacio gang before anything really bad happened, then they needed to act. Fast.

Mitch was at a loss for what to do, however. He made a brief call to the police station to see if there had been any developments. Negative. He didn’t have any official work to do at the moment that required his urgent attention. He got onto Facebook for a few minutes, and then started playing a game on his computer. That ended up taking the better part of half an hour. Then he got to work on his reports, but there was little he could do to finish them up. So he turned his computer game back on. 

Three hours after Coulson called, his work phone rang. He answered it.

“Hello?”

“Is this Agent Sorensen?” It was one of the police deputies he had been working with, Officer Brandon. 

“Yes.”

“We’ve made an arrest. Rodrigo Parquilla. He lives in the apartments above El Limon. We caught him at Xavier’s pawn shop--walking away with a suitcase full of cash. He said  
Javier gave it to him legally and he was taking it to a bank.” 

“How much money was on him?”

“At least five thousand dollars.”

The good faith payment was supposed to be six. 

“I’ll be right there. 

Rod Parquilla, it turned out, had been the man watching the scene with the lawyer in El Limon that morning. Mitch did not have a difficult time convincing him to confess. He showed Rod a picture of Bernadette Longoria and he admitted to knowing her.

“Someone in the apartment building said there were cops outside,” Rod said. “My wife and I went downstairs to see what was happening. She went back up--to warn Bernadette. She went down the fire escape.” 

“Does Ms. Longoria live at the El Limon Apartments?”

Rod shook his head. “Not legally. She’s been squatting there in an empty apartment since her boyfriend kicked her out.”

“Any particular reason?”

“She’s friends with Juana,” he said, referring to his wife. 

“Where did Bernadette go to?”

“I don’t know,” said Rod. “She had just gotten back from meeting with our hookup for the package. Juana made her an early breakfast. Bernadette said our contact agreed to meet with us tonight at the abandoned Franklin computer plant. It was my job to go to Xavier’s and pick up the cash. Several other...members of the organization are also planning on coming to the meeting.” 

“Who?” 

“I don’t know all the names. But I know Emiliano Urrea will be there. He’s the guy that they sent from Havana.” 

“What is the exchange for?”

“The Free Range Party agreed to send more efficient weapons to our operations in Cuba and here in the States. AK-74s. Sniper rifles. Tommy guns. The big stuff. Our bosses want more turf security. Too many cops cracking down on our business.” 

“How did you come up with the funds?”

“Those of us here in New York cashed in a few valuables here and there. I used to have a nice gold watch. We did some burglaries, around here and in Pittsburg and Chicago. I was part of two of them. But it was mostly sales.”

“Of marijuana?” 

“And cocaine. Yeah. The Free Range Party took an interest in us because in Cuba, we’re selling a new variety of weed that they think would do well on the open market in places where it’s legal. But of course, open business deals with Cuba aren’t exactly encouraged. So.” 

They were able to milk a few other details from Rod. The landlady at El Limon had been paid off to cover up for the Cartel members living upstairs--just Rod, Juana, and Bernadette. No one else in the building had explicit ties to San Ignacio. The lawyer who had waylaid Mitch that morning had no connection to the Cartel whatsoever. Rod had no idea why the contraband was shipping from Eastern Europe or who was sending it. And with Rod imprisoned and his case full of cash confiscated, his friends would make another withdrawal from Javier’s to bring to the exchange--because they would want their package more than ever. 

After the interrogation was finished, Mitch made a call to Coulson. Coulson was relieved to hear that they had nabbed someone.  
“  
So what happens tonight, when they meet at the old plant, boss?” Mitch asked. “Clearly, the people we’re looking for are going to be there. And they’ll be armed, probably. Do we call in our team to handle this?”

“The cartel won’t be happy that we’ve arrested one of their own,” said Coulson. “Aside from your cooperation with the police, there is no reason to involve anyone else from SHIELD on this.”

“You’re sending me in alone?”

“Well--you could take the cops with you,” said Coulson vaguely. “But that isn’t what I had in mind.”

“I see, sir.”

“Your authorization should be on its way.” 

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up. He then went to speak with Officer Brandon. 

“I’m going to crash the San Ignacio’s party tonight with the FRP.”

“Do you want backup?”

“Only in the case of an absolute emergency, sir,” said Mitch. “My boss has asked that we keep your department’s involvement on this to a minimum. Set up a perimeter. Be on site to make the arrests. Have medics ready in case of...injuries. That’s all I need.”

“And what’s your plan?”

“I’m bringing a friend.”

Brandon huffed. “Who? Spider-man?”

“Yes.”

“You know him?” Brandon asked, surprised. 

“Maybe.”

 

Mitch headed back to his hotel. He dug through his suitcase to get his tactical gear--just a bulletproof vest and a small handgun. He liked to travel light.  
Hedwig arrived while he was doing his preparations. She had a note from Coulson:

I am authorizing you to enact Code Marauder. Find Spider Man and ask him to give you whatever help you need. From this point until you have the suspects in custody, you are legally acting alone. We cannot take responsibility for anything that happens to you, Spider-man, or your suspects during the fight.  
Good luck.

Mitch ripped half a sheet of paper from his notepad and scribbled a note: meet me at your favorite Italian restaurant at six. He then folded it up and gave it to Hedwig. 

“Do you know how to find Peter Parker?”

Hedwig took the paper in her beak and nodded. Mitch opened up the square of cut glass in his window and let her out. She was back in half an hour with a reply: See you there.

Mitch went down to the Italian restaurant at five-thirty and ordered a spaghetti sub for his dinner. Peter had not been exaggerating about how good the breadsticks were: they were, to use a Mormon term, celestial. 

He ate at the cafe table outside. He wasn’t sure how to expect his ally to arrive, and alternated between watching the rooftops of the nearby buildings and scanning the pedestrians on the sidewalks. Mitch had to admit, Spidey’s unpredictability gave him an edge of compared to other superheroes. 

Peter came walking up the sidewalk with his hood pulled up low over his face and his backpack on, bulging with schoolbooks. Mitch looked up at him from under his hat and gave him a nod. Peter walked casually over to Mitch’s side.

“How’s your day been?” he asked Peter as he sat down.

“It’s been okay,” said Peter. “Geometry could’ve been a little more fun, I guess. So what do you need?”

“Should be simple: I need your help.”

“Why are you accepting me now?” Peter asked, confused. 

Mitch sighed. “I followed your tip, went to the Limon to track down our suspect. Neighborhood attorney showed up and told us to leave. But we arrested another guy later in the day. He told us what we needed to know. They’re meeting with the FRP tonight to give them some of the money. The old computer plant off Polonski street.”

“I know that place,” said Peter. “I know that place very well. Lot of criminals like to go down hang out. I might as well build a permanent web there, you know?”

Mitch sniffed. “Right. My boss doesn’t want a full-scale police assault. It’s just me...and you.”

“He wanted me to help you?”

“Yes. The FRP likes to play dirty. But I guess that’s what you expect for a political organization that supports the use of guns. And Coulson and I don’t like it when cops get hurt. Plus with the neighborhood attorney on top of us, if there are fatalities on their side we might lose credibility for our case. So go easy on ‘em.”

“I don’t kill people if I can avoid it,” said Peter with a smirk. 

“I know you don’t.”

“So are we working with the police or against them, though? I’m confused.”

“Legally, we’re working against them. The borough’s not allowed to work on the case. We have to make it look like you and me just happened to walk in there and arrest those dudes.”

“Stark’s not gonna be happy about this,” said Peter. “He doesn’t want me breaking the law.”

“Well, wasn’t going up against Captain America in Leipzig unsanctioned, too?”

“I dunno about the other guys, but I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there.” Peter looked at the ground. “The only rule that Tony Stark really has for me is to just do whatever he says.”

Mitch nodded. “For our purposes...sometimes the people willing to go outside the law are the ones more likely to get things accomplished.”

“I know.”

“So technically the police and I are helping you tonight. But they’ll be leaving the work to us.” Mitch leaned over the cafe table.

“That sounds fair. When do we go?”

“Nine. Can you meet me there?”

“Yeah.” 

Mitch got up and left first, to make it look to the passerby like they hadn’t been conspiring. 

 

Mitch needed five more hours before he was ready, not two. He had all of his gear ready, but he was never emotionally and mentally prepared enough to enter a firefight, planned or not. Luckily, with Spider-man in play, he shouldn’t have to use his gun that much. 

A police sedan drove him over to a spot a block away from the abandoned computer plant. The police would be setting up their perimeter nearby. Now all he needed was for Spider-man to show up. 

He paced on the curb, trying to look casual. He spied a woman with a hood over her face walking quickly towards the plant--judging by her stature and her business-casual pants, it was Terri Marcson. Mitch hid behind a garbage dumpster, but Marcson didn’t see him. 

A few minutes later, he saw three men walking together towards the old plant, all wearing dark clothes and the hoods pulled up over their faces. He had half a mind to go ahead and follow them. Then he heard a hissing noise above him. A large jet of web shot down to the wall behind him from the roof of a nearby building. Spider-man came after it, rappelling off the wall and onto the ground next to Mitch. He stumbled at the landing, rolling onto one side, but he stood up and dusted himself off as though it were nothing. 

“What’s happening?” he asked, sitting up.

“You gotta be so dramatic?”

Spider-man stood up. “Take it easy, man,” he said, spreading his arms out. “I got this.”

“You didn’t exactly nail that landing.”

Spider-man sniffed. “As if the landing was the most important part. I stick it when it counts. So what’s the plan?”

Mitch was somewhat mesmerized to be seeing Spider-man so up close and personal, even if he knew the kid under the mask. But he regained his composure quickly and said, “I want you to go ahead to the roof of the plant.”

“Uh-huh.”

“ Wait up there but do not be seen.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I’ll go in alone and offer them a chance to surrender.”

“Okay, sounds cool.” He started to turn to leave.

“Wait, wait!” said Mitch, grabbing him by the arm. “One more thing, wait until I signal for you to attack.”

“And what’s your signal?”

Mitch had been trying to think of one. Now he was caught on the spot and unprepared. “How about when I say ‘Spider.’ Don’t go in for the attack until I say that, do you understand?”

“Whatever, grandpa,” said Spider-man. As soon as Mitch let go of his arm, Spider-man shot a web onto a nearby building and took off. Mitch tried to call back to him, but of course he knew it was of no use.

So young. So eager to get in and help. Didn’t Peter have any grasp on just how serious this was? But, Mitch had to remind himself, Peter hadn’t been there when he’d had to take on the Free Range Party with just two friends to help him. He hadn’t been in either of those battles against Hydra that Mitch been in. 

Once Spider-man was out of sight, Mitch started to walk towards the abandoned computer plant. Inside of his coat, he reached for his gun and fingered the safety. He walked along the walls of buildings, staying in the shadows, not wanting to be seen if he could avoid it. He only braved going into the open to dash across the blacktop to a space between two dumpsters on the edge of the building. The old plant was made from coral-colored brick that showed grayish in the light of the few streetlamps. He could see the high windows with their shattered glass panes, some of them covered up on the inside. There had to be a way to get in for most of the regulars, he reasoned. Most likely Spider-man would just break through a window, or better yet find an opening in the roof. Listening carefully, he thought he could hear voices coming from inside of the building. There was a whiff of cigarette smoke, too. It got distinctly stronger when Mitch came near the corner of the building. There was a man wearing baggy pants and a hoodie standing outside of an open door, smoking.

Mitch came out from behind the corner. The man smoking dropped his cigarette and pulled out a knife--obviously he was here on purpose. Mitch grabbed the arm that was holding the knife and twisted it behind the man’s back. The man was obviously stronger, but Mitch was the one with the quick reaction. Mitch hit him over the head and knocked him out. He fell.

The guarded door had been opened a crack for obvious eavesdropping. Mitch could hear snatches of conversation, the cartel working to make an agreement with Marcson. There was someone else speaking on the FRP side of the bargain, a European voice that Mitch didn’t recognize. Probably not Hydra, but it made him uneasy. 

He got his gun out of his coat, and holding it away from him, he leaned up to the edge of the door. He knew he wouldn’t have long to listen--it wouldn’t take long for anyone to realize that the sentry had been snuffed. Inside, a single light was on, illuminating the otherwise shadowy space.

“Is your boss really going to be able to get all of that shipped over without the authorities noticing?” It was Bernadette.

“My boss has control of several smuggling organizations,” said the European voice, the accent rough and eastern. “The authorities will allow the shipment to pass through without even realizing what it really is. We have done this many times before.”

“You sound experienced,” one of the men said.

“Well, I do not bring the shipments over personally,” said the man, “but I am an expert in smuggling over the types of arms such as you see in your sample here.” 

Mitch peeked through the hole. The man was holding up something in a case. He was very tall, and bald, and his skin was somewhat pale. 

“So six of these, then...to New York?” said a female voice, not Bernadette’s.

“For the agreed upon price, yes,” said Terri Marcson.

“And six more to Cuba?” asked another deep male voice.

“Yes, and Cuba,” said the pale man. 

“All right, then,” said the deep voice. “We have an agreement. Here’s the down payment.” Mitch saw someone handing a case to one of the strangers. “We counted it twice, so don’t worry.”

“You think I’m taking your word for it?” The pale man addressed one of his short accomplices in a foreign language--Russian, maybe. The henchman sat down at a table with the case and opened it. 

The pale man handed his case to one of the waiting cartel members. The recipient beamed down at that contents. “Victor, I have to say I’m really grateful to you. You don’t know how many problems this is going to solve.”

The pale man, Victor, gave him a thin smile.

Terri Marcson huffed. “And I suppose you could find it in you to thank me, because after all I”m the one who brokered this deal.”

“Of course we’re grateful, honey,” said Bernadette. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

Mitch had heard enough. He pulled the door open and walked right in, holding his gun up.

“All right. Stand down. Hand over whatever you’ve got in there. Drop it.” Mitch pointed the gun at the large man holding the black case. It was Emiliano Urrea, the head of the San Ignacio cartel, wearing shabby clothes but fancy rings and earrings.

Terri Marcson appeared unconcerned but Mitch knew she was trying to figure out how to escape. The pale man beside her was clutching a holster on his waist. Bernadette scowled at Mitch as he walked forward. 

Urrea handed the case to a man standing beside him. “What do you want, Punk?”

“I’m here to arrest you on behalf of SHIELD.”

Marcson groaned.

“SHIELD, eh? You know, I used to work part-time as a bouncer in Havana to pay the bills--and I don’t think you were invited to this party.”

The code word is spider, the code word is spider, Mitch repeated to himself. Now to find a way to drop it. Peter would be listening, ready to spring in at any moment. Mitch glanced up and saw an open skylight in the roof. He did not dare move forward any longer, because now Urrea was moving closer to him. His men were spreading out backwards. Only three of them were holding guns, one of them being the guy counting out the money. Others were pulling out knives. One even had a set of brass knuckles. Bernadette and Terri and Victor hovered in the background, unsure what to do next. The man who had taken the case from Urrea was hiding somewhere--

“The question is, said Urrea, “where are all of your friends? Because last time I checked SHIELD didn’t like to send in their agents alone.”

Mitch grinned. Some of Urrea’s men were making their way around behind him. He kept his breathing even and replied in a loud tone, “I won’t need any help tonight. I’ve got a spider working with me.”

Urrea threw back his head and laughed. “Very funny, SHIELD guy. How about you drop your weapon and I let you walk out of here?”

“Yeah, right,” said Mitch, who was stealing quick glances at the skylight. A web wrapped around one of the pipes on the ceiling. It was hard to not be distracted when he needed to watch his back. “Are you really gonna let me? Because I’m certainly not gonna let you just walk out of here--awake, that is.”

That was when Spider-man made his move, swinging through the skylight on his silk rope. “HIEEE-YAH!” Mitch instinctively ducked to one side. Urrea, surprised, looked back up to see Spider-man descending and got the full impact of Spider-man’s kick. Everyone else scattered.

Spider-man stood on top of Urrea as the gangsters regrouped and circled around him. He did a backflip and kicked another one in the face, then shot web at two of them.

Mitch noticed some of the gangsters running to the door of the factory. “GET THE DOOR! GET THE DOOR!” he shouted. 

A bandit came up behind Spidey to grab him, but he launched up to the ceiling, swung from the pipes like a monkey and then shot some thick webs over the door, entangling a guy who had been stumbling through the threshold. 

On the far side of the melee, he saw the Victor and his two accomplices making their way through the factory, one of them was clutching the suitcase full of cash, but the latch was coming undone, and bills were flying out as he struggled to close it. Mitch ran after them. Pulling out his gun, he fired a few warning shots in the direction of Victor and his friends. They ducked behind some of the unused factory equipment. Mitch ducked behind a similar barricade as the three men returned fire. 

Spider-man was jumping up and down from the ceiling, literally bouncing off the walls as he shot webs and punched bad guys. Mitch really wanted to sit back and watch Spidey work his magic, but he had his own problems. While dodging bullets from the three dudes, Mitch noticed that Marcson and Bernadette had gone to hide in a corner. Marcson came out holding her handgun, and she made her way around the perimeter of the room. When she saw an opening, she dashed across the floor towards Mitch with her gun pointed towards him. He didn’t have time to react. Spider-man, however, was spinning webs around some of the gangsters close by. He dropped them and shot a web at a loose sheet of metal leaning against a wall. He pulled it back towards himself like a yo-yo and instantaneously launched it at Marcson. Marcson screamed and fell to the ground, unconscious. 

That was totally a Captain America move, Mitch realized. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he yelled at Spider-man.

“Friend of mine from Brooklyn,” said Spider-man casually. He shot a web around a gangster running towards him, then pulled him inward and punched him out like a giant reverse yo-yo. 

Some of the people that Spidey had beaten up in the initial attack got back up on their feet. He stuck a web up from the ceiling and swung around to attack his opponents with some intense acrobatics. Urrea got back up with a groan. Spider-man slid up to Urrea, a man twice his size, and started attacking with punches and high-powered kicks. He then turned his attention to the other gang members, subduing them completely and wrapping them up in webs.

Mitch, meanwhile, was going after Victor and his two friends. The threesome were opening a side garage door to make their escape. Mitch put his gun away and dashed across the room to attack them hand-to-hand. He got in a punch at Victor and then ducked as his friends punched and kicked him. Victor pulled out his gun to finish him quickly, but Mitch twisted his arm around Victor’s and squeezed until he dropped it. Enraged, Victor punched Mitch. The blow collided with Mitch’s jaw, and he stumbled backwards. The two henchmen caught Mitch, but after being dazed for only a moment he stood back up and hit one of them with the side of his fist. Mitch had been sparring in his spare time with Coulson and a few of his fellow SHIELD agents. And he’d learned a thing or two from his friend Hillary Tanner.

Back in the far corner of the building, Bernadette Longoria was trying to force open a locked door. 

“You can’t get out that way,” said Spider-man when he noticed her. He shot a web at Bernadette. She screamed, and then screamed louder when the web took her by her feet and pulled her upside-down. The web wrapped her feet around one of the ceiling supports, and then went around her whole body and finally her mouth so that she stopped screaming--a real fly caught in a spider’s web.

That was when the guy who had taken the case from Urrea stood up from his hiding place. He was holding up a high-tech automatic rifle. 

“Drop her now!” he shouted at Spider-man.

“Uh, did you see how much trouble I went to tying her up there?”

Impatient, the man opened fire. The rifle’s shots were loud and rapid. Spider-man dodged the bullets with ease. Bullet-holes riddled the walls and structural supports of the old  
factory as he tried to shoot down the pest. 

Spider-man made his way to the far right side of the room. “Missed me!” he said, waving his hands to taunt the shooter.

Huffing with anger, the man loaded another cartridge into the gun’s magazine. He was ready to fire another round when he noticed that his target was not in front of him. And before he could look up, Spider-man dropped down on top of him, knocking the weapon out of his hands. Spider-man then picked up the assault rifle and broke it in half.

“Aw, it’s broken. Too bad, that looked expensive.” He swung a kick at the shooter. The shooter ducked, and then pulled out a knife. He had no sooner raised it to stab than 

Spider-man had webbed up the hand, knife and all, and then yanked him in for a few good punches to the face. He fell unconscious to the concrete floor, bleeding and teeth missing from his mouth.

Spider-man turned his attention to Mitch, who was still fighting the three guys on the other side of the room, by the open port door. He ran across the room to Mitch’s side, and as he drew closer he shot a web up to the ceiling to swing his way across. Victor saw Spider-man coming and fired his gun. Spider-man, of course, dodged it easily.

“Wow, you’re a worse shot than the other guy,” said Spider-man. The two henchmen had Mitch in a headlock, but with the distraction Mitch broke their grip and knocked them to the ground. 

Still holding on to his gun, Victor bolted out the open door. He looked backward as he ran and fired a shot at Spider-man and Mitch. They were both barely able to duck in time to miss getting hit. 

The two henchmen were turning to leave as well, one of them still clutching the half-emptied cash suitcase. Spider-man shot a web at the guy with the suitcase, sticking him on the hand where he was gripping the handle, and the man yelled as he was pulled backward. The second man stopped to look back when his partner was grabbed, and that gave Mitch the opportunity to grab him from behind. A cuff on the head, and he crumpled to the ground. Spider-man wrapped up both of the men in his webs. 

“Where’s the third guy?” Spider-man asked.

Mitch was watching down the alleyway. Victor had already disappeared. “You wanna go after him while I start getting his mess cleaned up?”

“Sure,” said Spider-man.

“Bring him straight to the police station,” Mitch said.

“Noted.” Spider-man shot a web up at the roof of a nearby building and swung away.

Mitch turned around and headed back onto the factory floor. The floor was a mess of bodies, some bleeding, some groaning, some still. He checked a few of the quiet ones for signs of life--they were unconscious but not dead, thankfully. Good. They would all live to submit to questioning and go behind bars.  
He turned his attention to Terri Marcson, lying on the floor with her face a bloody, bruised mess. She gave a low growl like an angry alligator.

“Come on, get up,” said Mitch, helping her to her feet. “You’re going first.”

Marcson called him an SOB.

Mitch half-carried her, half-goaded her into walking outside. A police vehicle had pulled up in the alley behind the factory, waiting to pick her up.

 

After a brief medical exam, it turned out that Marcson had a concussion. Mitch ended up questioning her in the police station’s medical room while they waited for her escort to the hospital.

Marcson only told Mitch that the Free Range party was now receiving funding from a new “patron.” Mitch asked her about Victor but she didn’t respond. Victor’s two accomplices were unconscious.Mitch was able to question two more of the San Ignacio gang members, but they didn’t know much about Victor and his friends, except that they were Russian and working for the person who was going to give them the guns--and they didn’t know who that was, either. It would take a few days to go through Marcson’s assets to find any leads. Mitch was able to learn everything else he needed to know about what San Ignacio had done to get ready for tonight--how they had raised the funds, where they were meeting, who had shown up for tonight and who hadn’t made it.

It was one in the morning when Mitch finally finished at the police station. It wasn’t until he was stepping out the front doors that he remembered that he had sent Spider-Man to go after Victor. And he’d never shown up. After double-checking with the front desk, Mitch started to head for the subway back to his hotel room. 

He thought he heard, faintly, someone calling his name. Looking up over his shoulder, he saw Spider-man swinging down to meet him. 

“You’re back,” said Mitch. “Where’s Victor?”

“I lost track of him,” said Spider-man. “He ran inside of a building about a block away. I broke through a window to follow him. He went into the basement, I think. I spent forever looking for him, but he wasn’t anywhere. I guess he snuck out.” He could tell from the tone of voice and the movement under the mask that Peter was a little dejected.

“What’s the address for this building?” Mitch asked. Spider-man passed on the information to him. Mitch forwarded the information via text to one of the investigators.

“Aren’t you gonna go after him?” Spider-man asked.

“I’d like to,” said Mitch, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “But I think I’m ready to call it a day. He’ll turn up, as soon as we find out who he’s working for.”

“And when will that be?”

“Dunno. Not more than a few days from now, I hope. Wanna come back to the hotel with me, kid?”

“Sure--what for?”

“Just to hang out. I thought maybe you could use a place to unwind before you go back to your aunt’s.”

“Cool. Thanks. Where are you at?”

Mitch gave Spider-man the directions to the hotel. Spider-man took the streets while Mitch got on the subway all by himself. He was all alone in his car, except for an old man with glasses who was snoring in the opposite corner. Mitch took a minute to text Coulson and say that the mission had gone well. 

He made it to the main entry of the hotel. Spider-man was waiting for him on the awning above the revolving door. Mitch let them in with his room key, and they took the elevator up to Mitch’s room. Spider-man waved at the security cameras on their way up. It seemed kind of weird, for Spider-man to be just casually following him around.

Mitch turned on the hotel room light. Hedwig was sleeping peacefully in the far corner.

“Make yourself at home,” said Mitch. He went to the bathroom real quick.

Spider-man went and sat down on the bed. He took off his mask and ran his fingers through his hair. “Man, I was sweating under that mask,” Peter said when he Mitch came out.

“Well, you work up a sweat when you fight people,” Mitch replied as he washed his hands. He dried them on a towel. Coulson had said that Mitch could be back in D.C. as early as the following night--just when he was starting to get used to New York.

“So Mitch,” said Peter, “did you mean attack right when you said the code word or get ready to attack when you said it?”

“I probably should have clarified that,” said Mitch. “But you know what, I guess it didn’t matter, as long as you got in there as soon as possible.”

Peter leaned down, head on his hands.

“So do your--superpowers--give you extra energy?”

Peter shook his head. “I dunno. Seems like the more I get involved with the superhero stuff the tireder I get.”

Mitch smirked. He sounded a lot like Steve Rogers.

“So did you get everyone else who was there arrested?”

“Yes, all of them,” said Mitch. “Some of the police had a hard time unsticking them from the webs you wrapped around them. A lot of them were pretty badly injured, though. A lot of broken bones and black eyes. Concussions. A few people even went to the hospital. Don’t you know how to take it easy on people?”

Peter looked squeamish. “I...try...sometimes...I just...get in there and I want to go all out, you know. But you know I never make it a point to kill people, right? Nobody died tonight--did they?”

“Somebody could have died,” said Mitch. “There’s a difference between zero fatalities and it might have been a lot worse. I’m not saying I’m mad at you, I’m actually kind of proud. But just--for future reference. SHIELD and some of the...superhumans we have worked with in the past use a different level of tactics for just fighting and arresting someone from when they fight to kill. Has Tony Stark told you about that?”

“He hasn’t, actually,” said Peter, shaking his head. 

“You’re lucky that when Stark took you to Leipzig that nobody there got around to actual killing.” Mitch swallowed. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that Stark had later attempted to actually kill someone.

“Didn’t the Black Panther want to kill the metal arm dude?” 

“Probably.”

Peter sat up straight. “So where are the Avengers that got arrested? I heard they escaped prison. It was on the news. Where’d they go?”

Mitch hoped that Peter wasn’t good at telling when someone was lying to him. “SHIELD is...we’re...keeping an eye out for them.”

Peter gave him a smirk of disbelief.

For his part, Mitch still had a lot of questions about Peter--about how he’d gotten his powers, what had happened to leave him living with a single aunt. But those questions didn’t seem so important right now. 

“Tell you what, kid,” said Mitch, “you keep my secrets, I’ll keep yours. Let’s not tell each other anything that the other doesn’t need to know. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Mitch noticed Hedwig was stretching her wings in the back corner. “Well well, look who’s awake.”

Peter turned around to look behind him. “Whoa.”

Hedwig chirped.

Mitch walked around his bed to Hedwig’s chair, and he petted her on the head. Peter rolled over Mitch’s bed to the other side. 

“Did you get some good sleep, Hedwig?” Mitch asked her. She gave him a sort of accusing look. “I guess I interrupted you, didn’t I?”

Hedwig leaned her head sideways for a look at Peter. Peter was leaning the same way so he could see around Mitch.

“Hello. Nice to see you again.” He glanced at Mitch. “Does she have a name?”

“Hedwig.”

Peter shrugged. “Kind of obvious, you would name your pet messenger owl after Hedwig--”

“I didn’t name her after Hedwig,” said Mitch. “She is Hedwig.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story,” said Mitch. 

“I thought she died in book seven.”

“Yes--well, Hydra brought her back. And the Avengers rescued her. She’s been staying with my boss ever since. And she...does a lot of postal work for us. Coulson insisted I bring her with me, since my assignment to keep track of you was supposed to be under the radar.” Mitch looked down at her, grinning. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Yeah, sure!” said Peter eagerly, almost too loud for a hotel room surrounded by sleeping people.

Mitch picked up a leather gauntlet on the table. “Here, you’ll need--”

“Naw, I can handle it.” Peter held out his arm. Hedwig leaped across the room to him. However much weight her talons could crush, they were no match for Peter’s super-strength. Peter stroked her feathers with his other hand. Hedwig closed her eyes serenely. Peter looked happy beyond words.

Mitch smiled at the two of them. He wondered...he wondered if Hedwig was thinking of Harry, of when he’d been Peter’s age.

“Does this building allow pets?”

“Not that I know of. But I have a little gadget to cut the window open, whens she needs to get in and out. Coulson thought bringing her through the front door would attract too much attention.”

Peter looked up at Mitch. “You know...the next time you’re in town, and you need a place to stay, and keep an owl with you, you’re more than welcome to come at my place. Aunt May’ll probably make you sleep on the couch--”

“That’s fine.”

“Do you play video games?” Hedwig was preening her wing a little bit.

“Uh, duh!”

“Awesome! I can totally entertain ya. I’ve got the new Legend of Zelda.”

“WHAT?”

“Have you not played it yet?”

“I’m still saving up for it.” Mitch laughed. “I could totally just come up for the weekend sometime. D.C.’s like a short trip anyway. Train fare’s cheaper than a new video game.”  
Peter scratched Hedwig under her chin. She snapped at his finger. “Although, Aunt May might think it’s a little weird that a secret agent would just want to hang out with me, as a friend.”

Not as weird as Tony Stark would. “It’s not weird at all, I’ve got a brother and some cousins that are your age, that I’m close to. I’ll totally take you up on that.”  
Hedwig leaned over to nip Peter on the ear. Then she started to stretch and flap her wings. Peter held out his arm so she could leave. “Here you go, girl,” he said to her softly.  
She flew off and went back to her chair, yawning shortly after she landed.

“I think Hedwig may want to go back to sleep now,” said Mitch. “Anything else I can get for you?”

“Nah, I’m good,” said Peter. “I need to run home and get to bed.” He yawned. “I could use some sleep myself.” He sniffed his arm. “Could probably use a shower, too.”

“Is that thing washable?” Mitch asked as he picked up his jacket.

“I dunno. I wear it lots of places where it could get dirty--it seems to resist picking up dirt and grease.”

Mitch shrugged. Peter put on his mask. Mitch opened the hotel room door and led him outside, and then locked the door securely. He and Peter chatted quietly about video games on their way down the hall and in the elevator. They didn’t see a single soul in the building. 

Mitch held open the front door of the hotel for Spider-man. “Well, anyway, thanks again for your assistance.”

“Not a problem.”

“You know, Coulson didn’t think the two cases I was working on would be related. But...actually you turned out to be a lot of help.”

“Hey, if it works out,” Spider-man shrugged. “Thanks for letting me help you. I’m always glad to do stuff for people.”

Mitch couldn’t help smirking. “Well, you take care.”

“You too.” Spider-man was preparing to jump onto a nearby streetlamp.

“Hey, wait,” Mitch spoke up.

Spider-man turned and looked at him. 

“Just remember...Tony Stark’s not the only person who cares about you. And I can’t always come up when you need me. But there’s always somebody you can talk to, if you need help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Spider-man cocked his head at Mitch. “Whatever. I guess you’re okay, Sorensen.”

“Just okay?”

“That means you’re awesome.”

“Oh.”

“Bye bye now.” He gave a little wave.

“Goodnight.”

Spider-man shot a web and zipped off into the darkness. He jumped onto a street lamp, then he swung over to one of the traffic signals, and then he made his way across the street to climb and swing the way home along the edge of a nearby building. Mitch watched him until he was out of sight.

Should have given the kid my number, if he wanted to hang out with me, Mitch thought to himself. But it wasn’t a huge deal. They would see each other again, eventually. And Hedwig knew where he lived, so it wasn’t like Mitch didn’t have a way to get in touch with Parker. He’d have to ask Coulson about that, see if they could use Hedwig to keep an eye on Spider-man, as well as for personal correspondence.

It wasn’t important to Mitch that he’d befriended Spider-man, much less done a cool crime-fighting op with him. But it did feel good to know that he was someone Peter Parker could count on.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone had told me ten years ago that I would be writing Spider-man fanfiction after college...well, I would have wanted to build a time machine to slap my future self repeatedly. But as it is, Tom Holland's Spider-man is adorable and a great addition to the MCU. I had a lot of fun writing this character and his chemistry with my OC Mitch Sorensen was a treat to discover. I already have a few thoughts about a sequel piece so stay tuned...


End file.
